Dark Marks, Orders and Auror’s
by Chris5
Summary: *Finished* 15 years into the furture. The MoM has passed information onto a feared order of wizards (H&G) in an attempt to end Voldemort. But is it a trap? Both are wanted by Voldemort and the MoM. H/G, R/Hr. *Alternate ending*
1. 15 years on ...

Dark Marks, Orders and Auror's chapter 1.

Fifteen years on....

By Chris.

Summary: 15 years after Harry's fourth year at Hogwarts, Voldemort has gained power again. The Ministry of Magic has split away from Dumbledore's 'Resistance', and someone in the Ministry has passed information to a powerful and feared—by dark and light wizards alike—order of Auror's (Harry and Ginny no less) in an attempt to end the threat of Voldemort once and for all ... or is it really a trap? Marked by both the Ministry and Voldemort, Harry and Ginny must clear their names, and take down Voldemort before their enemies catch up with them.

Chapter 1—Fifteen years on....

Little few things had changed in Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry over the past fifteen years. The castle still stood proud and bold next to the lush greens of varying shades, as the light summary grasses met the darker more sinister and shadowy greens of the forbidden forest; which was still as off limit to students as ever. Within those trees still lurked dangers far beyond any minor wizard could handle, from werewolves to great serpents. The only friendly face within such a place were the centaurs; the half horse, half human creatures, that read the stars, and the future with more accuracy then any wizard had yet managed. 

Closer to the masses of trees then the castle, the gamekeepers hut stood, if not looking quite what it used to. The small wooden building, which contained but a single room that had been shabby even at it's best, was now looking nothing short of condemned. The deep brown-red, the colour the wood had once been, was now faded and weathered after standing empty and unseen to for so long. The few windows that remained unbroken were almost opaque with dust and cobwebs, built by the seemingly endless army of spiders the forbidden forest seemed to breed. Nonetheless, the empty hut that used to be called home to the Hogwarts gamekeeper, was one of the few things that had changed. The rest of the grounds remained impeccable, the grasses around the castle neatly cut, if not slightly downtrodden with the great traffic it saw on a daily basis now that the last of the rain had disappeared and summer approached. 

The lake was still as deep as always, and the dark blue still sheltered the giant squid, as the reflected rays of sunlight glittered serenely in the still water. The large Whomping Willow still stood a few hundred metres from the paths that circled the castle, but close enough to the lake to ensure it's very much needed supply of water was always there, and people still avoided it like the great Muggle and Wizard plague.

Inside, one that attended twelve years previous would barely notice a difference if they were to return to the castle for a visit that day. It appeared as though Hogwarts had it's own place in the world free of time, as though the grounds had been frozen to preserve the castle forever in it's state. Corridors still wound in a maze like manor throughout the castle, seemingly turning around and back on themselves; though the slightest wrong turn and you could end up on the other side of the castle. 

The same pictures hung on the walls as people passed (Unless of course they happened to be visiting a fellow picture), and the armour still stood in the same position; well, most of the time anyway. Occasionally a crash could be heard echoing through the castle, very often accompanied a few seconds later be an enraged shout of, 'Peeves.' Peeves, the school poltergeist, knocked things over, moved things around, and in general caused mischief and mayhem, namely for the caretaker, Filch. Thought it was true to say that neither the students, nor even teachers were safe from Peeves's destructive streak. 

Many secrets still the castle kept from all but the most adventurous; the few in each generation that dared to break some of the rules every now and then (The greatest being those that broke them every chance they had) and explore. It was only these people, the courageous (A trait that Gryffindor's were famous for, so it wasn't a surprise that most of the recent finds were made by Gryffindor's. Though Slytherin's with there certain disregard for rules also stood a good chance.), that really even began to unearth what the castle held: Hidden rooms, and hidden wonders that not even the headmaster, nor even a ghost—with it's abilities to pass though walls—could find. 

The start of each new year was marked by the sorting hat, which placed frightened looking first year students into their respective houses, below a great tapestry covered roof—that reflected the whether outside—in the wide expanse of the great hall.

This particular tradition had just started. Sat perched around the four long house tables, were the higher years in the school, the second through seventh years, who all sat eagerly awaiting the great feast—another tradition—to begin; as it would soon as the hat had finished sorting. At the entrance, a group of first years stood huddled together looking apprehensive and pale. It was quite a impressive room in which they stood, and the hundreds of, what to them must seem to be hawk-like-eye's, were levelled upon them; this of course did nothing to help lighten their anxiety. Behind them, Hagrid, stood head and shoulders—and bare in mind his head and shoulders were also very much bigger then everyone else as well—above everyone else. His beetle-black eye's and wild main of hair atop his giant figure gave him a look of wild danger. But, as most of the first years now knew, after their journey with him to the castle high atop the cliff, Hagrid was a gentle giant (Or rather half-giant). 

'Cheer up all o' yeh. It ain't all that bad,' said Hagrid, having noticed one girl in particular looked white as a ghost—perhaps that very well might be because she'd seen an actual ghost. He brought his giant hand down, and patted her on the shoulder in an attempt to comfort her, but only sent her flying. Those from Muggle backgrounds tended to need an extra length of time to adjust to the world seen through a wizards eye. There was so many new, exciting and occasionally scary things inside the wizard world which they had been naive to growing up with Muggles: Dragons, ghosts and goblins to name but a few; many things though fantasy, yet feared, in the Muggle world

Giving the students one last encouraging smile, he made his way across the room to sit with the rest of the staff. Being the "Care of Magical Creatures" teacher, meant he had to sit at the smaller table at the back of the hall with the rest of the staff, a place which just so happened to be next to the head.

To his right, was the Divination teacher, Professor Tawlery, who had made a rare visit down from her classroom to see in the new group, and of course the sorting ceremony. Over the past fifteen years, she had only gained an extra few grey hairs, and had just one or two stray wrinkles upon her thing face; which due to her large thick glasses made her eye's bulge disproportionably from the rest of her features. She showed no outward sign of stress or worry whatsoever, despite the events that had transpired, particularly over the last few years. When someone—a fellow resistance fighter—asked her about this, had "confronted" her on the matter, she had simply said, 'I had already seen the events transpire!' Though, when asked if she had seen the events transpire beforehand, why did she not then warn the resistance, she had quickly changed the subject, and given a grim warning of impending doom to the person she'd been talking to.

Looking much older however, with pronounced dark patched under his eye's, was professor Snape. Snape was the 'Defence Against the Dark Art's' teacher, and formerly Potions master of the school. He had recently—a year previous—returned to teaching, after having been very active in the resistance; during which time, he'd done things that had given him a much older, more fragile appearance. This however, made no difference to his attitude, particularly towards students. He still tortured any student that was not from Slytherin on a daily basis, and many of the students soon learnt to fear the pale face, with his large pointed nose and mid-length, greasy, black hair of Severus Snape.

Two empty seats, heralded the usual positions of the Quidditch teacher, professor Hooch—who was off seeing the intake of new school broomsticks—and the Herbology teacher, and head of Hufflepuff, professor Sprout—who was off extracting a useful ingredient from a plant that only flowered before 10 in the morning.

Among the five ghosts in the hall, was another familiar face of old: The 'History of Magic' teacher, Professor Binns. Then again, his presence was just about the most assured thing in the entire school. He would no sooner leave—or in fact, sooner change his lesson plan; which had stayed the same for over fifty years—then Snape would senselessly award marks to Gryffindor.

Across the other side of the table, three new figures sat. A tall and thin woman (Though mot quite so tall and thin as Professor Trawlery) named Gwyndiwa, was the current potions. The other, was perhaps the shortest person in the room, shorter even then the first years, a midget named Dave. Dave taught Transfiguration (Though many said, 'not well,' on the grounds that 'if he could transfigure so well, why did he not transfigure longer legs!).

At the centre of the teachers table, on the largest chair, sat the headmaster—or rather, headmistress—Hermione Granger. Hermione was well regarded amongst areas of the Wizarding world, and though more famously know for publishing countless books on Defence Against the Dark Arts (One co-published with Severus Snape) she was also know for being the youngest Hogwarts head teacher to be appointed, ever. Hermione sat proud with the sorting hat in her hand and welcoming smile upon her face.

Hermione raised her hands to silence the impatient school then addressed the first years. 'I would like to welcome you all to Hogwarts,' she said, with a reassuring smile. The brunette threw the sorting hat to the table, before adding, with a hint of authority, 'And, if the rest of the school would kindly wait five extra minutes, we will now sort you into the respective houses. You will be put in one of these four houses, named after the four founding wizards, by the sorting hat: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, or Slytherin.

The first year's attention was drawn to an old, ragged looking hat that now sat perched before her; sat next to her (more then noticeable by almost every hungry person in the room) empty plate. It gave a little jerk and Hermione pocked it, first with her fingers, and then more assertively with her wand, muttering, 'Go on.'

The hat jerked again, and, earning a loud chorus chuckle from the school that echoed through the great hall like with a megaphone, announced, 'No! They'll laugh at me.'

'Don't make me hex you hat,' Hermione warned, standing up and pulling out her wand. 'I can, and will turn you into a shoe.'

'I demand pay,' it squeaked; the entire school, first years included, could now make out what seemed to be a large rip in the hat which was acting as mouth. 'You offer pay to the house elves, then I demand pay as well,' said the hat. 'And day's off too.'

'You get 364 day's off a year, hat,' said Hermione, incensed. 'How can you have more day's off then that?'

By now, all of the first years were starring wide eyed and opened mouthed, as the headmistress argued with a hat on such matters as her stand on house elves, and possible way's the hat could have more then three-hundred and sixty-four day's off each year. What they all failed to realise was all sign of nervousness—whether the Hermione made it so on purpose was still debated—they had just seconds before had completely vanished; replaced by confusion and amusement. Headmistress Granger continued her argument, that eventually, differing completely from the previous years shenanigans, culminated in the entire staff threatening to hex the hat, which was followed by an exiting light show; spells cast all over the room.

'Okay,' said the Sorting hat, finally conceding when Hermione threatened to replace it with a joke (Weasley Inc: the name of a multinational company after Weasley's Wizard Wheezing's bought out Zonko products) replica sorting hat (Pink colour version), which, because neither Fred or George Weasley were—not—at all biased, sorted people into the four house: Gryffindor, Slivering, a lot of Huff and Puff, and of course Chickenclaws. Spinning round, the hat cleared its throat (If it had one) and much to the first year's surprise—and the rest of the schools entertainment—began singing:

__

New students to bold Hogwarts,

Champions of all the schools.

Come one, come all, come place me on,

and let me choose where you belong.

Heart of a lion, brave beyond all others,

Shall in Gryffindor you find like brothers (and sisters).

Through hard of work, you are determined to do your best,

if so, then Hufflepuff you'll like above the rest.

Wise-ness; if this so be your gift in throng,

then Ravenclaw house is where you belong.

Greatness at any cost is your aim,

then Slytherin is where you'll reign.

So come, atop your head I belong,

I will sort you well; I've never been wrong.

For I am the sorting hat; I will choose your place,

after this song, without further hast.

(Authors note: The hat had a bad summer, it was bullied by other articles of clothing, and so decided to reflect it's summer month's in the quality of it's song! I apologise for this, and hope you will one day forgive me for such a terrible song: I am no poet as I'm sure you can see.)

__

A few arched eyebrows later, and a few steady, tentative steps forward, one by one, the first years were sorted, and soon after, a whole host extra faces sat at each of the four house tables, and the great fast was served.

~*~

The first year students settled quickly over the weeks that past, of course there was the few that forgot their timetables, unknowingly broke rules, or just missed home. But as a whole, they were fine. Fine, when considering the age they were growing up in. The mood could almost be described as uneventful, with most of the students—bar the first years, of course—to some degree used to life at Hogwarts.

One early morning, third year students from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw made their way from the greenhouses, having had Herbology for first lesson that morning, an exited chatter filled the air.

'Did you see those things?' exclaimed one girl. 'How weird were they? Ours didn't even like sunlight!'

'They were defiantly weird,' piped in another. 'What's with the purple bumps? And ours attacked us!'

'Stop being so dramatic. It simply fell on your hand,' said a Ravenclaw boy, who was looking round for his friend; she'd fallen behind. 'Heidi, what you doing... Heidi?'

The girl had stopped completely still, her mouth hanging, with a wide-eyed expression. Her blue eyes glistened in the sunlight with tears that threatened to fall. 'Oh god,' she whimpered, her lips quivering wildly, and her hands trembling.

In the far distance, something hung that sent shivers through most adult wizards and witches, let alone younger ones. Something that would shatter the "uneventful" mood of the previous few weeks. The Dark Mark—the mark Lord Voldemort and his followers used whenever they had killed someone—hung tainting the otherwise beautiful day. The serpent green skull, as tall as the castle itself marked the sky above Hogsmead Village; even more noticeable when no cloud even dare enter the picture perfect sky.

****

End chapter 1—Fifteen years on....

Coming up in chapter 2: Ron Weasley, working for the Ministry, arrives at Hogwarts to fill Hermione in on a few details about the Dark Mark above Hogsmead. Though, he also has something else to tell Hermione, something to do with Harry and Ginny, something that will affect them all. Implied Ron/Hermione past.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.


	2. Accusations, History and Relationships.

Dark Marls, Orders and Auror's chapter 2.

Accusations, History and Relationships.

By Chris "I'll think of a Harry Potter related alias later".

Summary: Ron, now working for the Ministry of Magic, brings Hermione some bad—or good!—news, and history between them is dug up in the process. Emotions run high, with accusations answered by counter-accusations... the usual Ron/Hermione relationship.

Chapter 2

Accusations, history, and relationships.

Ron Weasley arrived at Hogwarts, his freckled face looking particularly worn, as heavy bags reflected the long hours he'd been working. His ears were almost as fiery as his hair; he looked nothing short of furious, even more so reflected as he took long purposeful steps. This look of fury, mixed with another emotion that was etched on his face... a look of fury and sorrow. With clenched teeth, his eye's glittered with fresh tears that threatened to fall. Ron walked the route he knew oh-so-well, along the twisted, maze-like, corridors, and up a flight of stairs—careful to avoid the third from last step—past a picture of an old witch (who looked remarkably like a hag Ron had met earlier that day) who watched him suspiciously, with hawk-like-eyes, from her gold frame. He passed one last suit of arms, and stopped in front of a large stone gargoyle statue that glanced down at him fiercely.

Ron straightened his clothes, careful to check everything looked new an ironed. He even went so far as to straighten his hair; flattening it with his hand. 'Westminster,' he finally choked out, sure now he looked more presentable.

The password was taken from everyday, traditional Muggle language, and Ron was sure more Wizards were familiar with gobbledygook then they were with regular Muggle words; it was brilliant. No Wizard that didn't already know the password would ever be able to guess it. Only Hermione would choose such a password; only she would think to chose such a password. No sooner did the words leave his mouth, did the gargoyle opened up before him, and into view came a huge oak door so massive, he seriously doubted that even one of his brothers explosives could break it open. Below a heavy gold knocker, was the Hogwarts coat of arms with the four house animals inscribed, one in each corner. Representing Gryffindor, was a lion; Hufflepuff, a badger; Ravenclaw, a raven; and representing Slytherin, a snake. 

Ron, for the briefest second, thought the Gryffindor lion looked slightly bigger then the rest. Bigger, or perhaps the had the slightest sliver of extra shine. He immediately dismissed the thought out of hand; this was Hermione he was talking (or rather thinking) about. Hermione may have been in Gryffindor whilst at Hogwarts herself, but she was most definitely not the kind to show favouritism despite this. There was no way she ever would, it just wasn't her... but still!

Ron made his way to the door, feeling slightly intimidated by it's sheer size; he wondered what it must have been like to go there whilst a students at Hogwarts, he knew Harry had. He paused just before he reached the oak mass to gather up enough courage to enter. He coughed lightly to clear his throat, checked his clothes one last time and with his eyes closed said to himself, 'Now or never!'

Ron pushed the door open nervously, noticing that it seemed almost weightless in his grip; how something so immense could move so freely, even with magic, he just didn't know (Perhaps the hinges were just well oiled). As the door opened wider, and wider, he could see more and more of room, the scene building slowly before him. Candles cast slivers of sunset-red light on his purple cloak, as shadows danced in tune to the flickering flames atop the burning wax. The circular room was surrounded by dozens of pictures of dosing past head teachers. One of the most noticeable of these pictures was of a balding man at the very back who was snoring loudly as a bead of drool hung from the side of his mouth. Another picture Ron saw was of a thin, stern-looking woman with grey hair, who was talking in her sleep to a dragon apparently named Alfy. The poor creature was receiving a fragmented lecture on why it shouldn't breath on fireworks during term time. 

In the very middle of the room stood a large desk. It was magnificent, as large as he'd ever seen before and Ron knew immediately that, if he were the remotest part interested in desks, this would be his most prized possession. It was crafted in solid oak, with trimmings of gold-leaf rose designs running up the edges and sides. Small gems and jewels were immaculately, and tastefully, woven into the design, and the curve of the wood was so as to match perfectly the curve of the room. Stacks of papers sat in neatly next to bundles of quills and jars of ink bottles of ink on it's top, but other then these objects, it was completely bare. Ron could imagine Hermione too afraid of scratching it to actually use it. He could imagine, fifty years from now, the desk still sitting in mint condition, perfectly preserved and unused.

Upon the wall, just above the desk, a magnificent silver mirror hung, along the glimmering frame were etched tiny pictures of wizards, and witches, and dragons. In each the four corners perched a large statue of a grinning cherub: one of which was flattening it's featured wings; whilst another (In the bottom right hand corner) was talking quietly to a wizard about dragon slaying—the small figure was nodding enthusiastically as he crouched behind a rock, hiding from the Chinese fireball dragon that prowled the frame. 

Next to the mirror, a circle of shelves that ran the room seated countless books (which were no doubt arranged in alphabetical order). So many titles were placed around the room, it could quite possibly function as a library as well as an office. At the very end of one shelf, when—miraculously—there were no more books left to fill the space (Though there was a large chest of draws, which no doubt hid yet more titles), was a picture of Hermione, Harry, Ginny and himself that had been taken years before, when Harry, Hermione and himself were in their seventh and final year at Hogwarts and Ginny in her sixth.

'What time do you call this?' came an amused voice from behind him. A chuckle escaped Hermione's lips as Ron nearly jumped out of his skin. 'Your owl said you'd be here ten-minutes ago,' she added sternly.

Ron turned, and saw the warm face of his best friend, Hermione. Her bushy brown hair was still most prominent (and always would be)—though Ron guessed, next to his own vivid red hair, it couldn't look quite so evident—and her face was as warm and happy, yet almost paradoxically strict as ever. Ron stood for a moment in silence, attempting to gain control of his heart. He wasn't sure whether it was the shock of Hermione sneaking up behind him, or just the sight of her beautiful face that set it of, and he didn't have time to debate it; the brunette was waiting for a reply. 'Hermione,' he greeted. 'You shouldn't sneak up on people like that.'

'Then people should perhaps arrive when they say they're going to arrive. Then I wouldn't have to go looking for them, wondering whether they've got lost somewhere within the castle.'

'It was five minutes,' Ron argued, sounding indignant. 'And as if I would get lost here. I spent seven years of my life here.'

'Well, it has been quite a while since you've been here,' said Hermione, thoughtfully.

Without thinking, Ron flung his arms around Hermione, pulling her into a hug that he didn't really want ever to end. He spoke into her shoulder, 'Good to see you again, Herm.'

'You too,' said Hermione warmly, cautiously hugging Ron back. Soon enough she was hugging Ron as hard as he hugged her, which by then resembled two hugging trolls; in mating season no less. Each pulled the other closer, afraid this would be the last time they would ever see each other. 'It's been too long,' said the brunette.

Ron could still remember the last time he'd seen her; it was forever etched in his memory. 'Six months,' he recited offhand as they finally pulled away. He shook his head at the length and said, 'Too damn long.' Then, with a grin, he forced himself to push the current events to the back of his mind, and asked, 'So, how you been?'

Hermione walked over to her desk and tapped it with her wand. 'Oh fine,' she said briskly. Immediately after she'd tapped the desk with a wand, a small silver machine popped up from inside a hidden trap-door (Whose seams must have been invisible) on the top of the desk, and beside it was perched two cups: one a plane red cup that looked bare and void of magic... almost like a Muggles cup; the other was most defiantly magic, almost making up for the lack of enchantment the other showed. A tiny picture of a dragon was currently breathing fire onto words which read "Ever - Warm - Cup", and evidently from the smoking desk, the cup stayed very warm indeed.

'Drink!' said Hermione. It was more of an order then a question, she had already poured Ron a cup of Hundred Herb Tea in the Ever - Warm - Cup, and nigh on thrust it into his outstretched palm, asking, 'How had he been?'

Ron flinched as the cup he took burnt his hands. 'Thanks,' he muttered. The drink was so hot, Ron had to juggle it, passing it from hand to hand in order to keep it from scalding him. Perceiving it as a challenge, the dragon blew ever more fire onto the words, and the cup became increasingly hotter. 'I've seen better day's,' he said, sounding as worn as he looked. Ron glanced at the Muggle cup from which Hermione was sipping from, and now very much wished he'd been given that cup (At least he'd be able to drink from it). 'Been shopping in Muggle London again?' he asked.

'Oh this?' said Hermione, her eye's falling to her cup. 'No, I got this ages ago. I haven't had time for much shopping lately, not even for every day things, as I'm sure neither have you.'

'Really, That bad?' said Ron, sympathetically. Ron gave a nod of agreement, and attempter to take a sip from his drink, but, sure enough, a fresh wave of steam came roaring from the cup. 'Yeah, I know how that feels, working twenty-four hours a day. Things are especially bad at the Ministry now that... You-Know-Who's gaining power again.'

Hermione nodded solemnly, and, in a quite, regretful tone said, 'The day we all stopped working together was the day we gave him free reign.'

Ron placed his cup (Which was still scalding hot)—feeling quite relieved about doing so—atop the table, and gave a nod of agreement, replying, thoughtfully, 'Cornelius was naive, foolish even, to think the Ministry could stop You-Know-Who without Dumbledore and his supporters; without the resistance.'

Hermione immediately glanced at the cup on the desk; she looked almost nervous about it. 'So, what news do you bring from the ministry?' she said as she moved Ron's cup onto a cosy. 'You've come about the Dark Mark that was sighted over Hogsmead!' she said matter-of-fact.

Hermione flinched slightly as she mentioned the Dark Mark, and, not bothering to wait for an answer from Ron (She really would rather not know), she busied herself rearranging her desk (despite it's already immaculate appearance). She somehow managed to find that the papers were not all exactly three inches from the edge.

'Yes! It's the second one this week,' said Ron, slightly flustered—his ear tips going noticeably red—as Hermione continued to move things about busily, doing anything that would distract her from the harsh truth.

'Indeed,' said Hermione. She was angrily flicking through a book entitled 'The 10 uses of toad skin' (Which didn't look a good read in the least, even for Hermione.) in a futile attempt to forget the memory of the earlier weeks loss; Death Eaters had killed someone Hermione had known, be it not very well. The victim had been more of a friend—team-mate would be a better word—of Harry's, at Hogwarts: Alicia Spinnet.

'Hermione! Please, this is important,' said Ron harshly; harsher then he would have liked. Nonetheless, it had the desired effect. The brunette looked up to make eye contact with Ron, who, seeing the tears in her eyes that mirrored his own, suddenly found his shoes extra interesting. Interesting enough to warrant a second glance and then a third and a fourth until....

'Who was it this time?' said Hermione standing the other side of her desk. She was still flicking through her book, even if she was no longer reading the pages.

'You might want to sit down,' said Ron. His act of care went unnoticed; Hermione stood defiant.

'Just tell me who it was,' snapped Hermione.

'It was... It was the Longbottom's,' Ron stuttered sadly; his voice wavering as he spoke. 'They-They never stood a chance... Retaliation for us catching Mark Blake and Andrew Thompson last week.'

Hermione immediately collapsed into her chair, choking down a strangled sob; the loss of their, Ron and hers, childhood friend nearly too much. Ron found the desire to go over and comfort her, to hug her, almost too much. 'Poor Neville,' she sobbed from behind glazed eye's. It took a moment for her to regain her composure, and then, with a reflective disbelieving tone she said, 'I would never have though Mark Blake.' A sudden thought hit her as she wiped away the tears from her eyes, still struggling to keep more replacing those she wiped away. 'Didn't Mark Blake go to the Ministry Headquarters last month?'

Ron didn't see where this was heading, or what this had to with Neville, but it was Hermione, so he nodded and said quietly, 'Yeah, he did!'

'Then surely, if he was a Death Eater, he would have been caught by the sensors! The sensors are everywhere in the ministry. The place the Dark Mark was scribed should have hurt like crazy the moment he entered the building... He shouldn't have been able to use his arm at all!'

Ron shook his head slowly; this was much to like Hermione to figure things out by herself. It was just one of the many things Ron had come to explain, but as always, it was her that lead the conversation. 'He didn't have a Dark Mark,' he explained. 'You-Know-Who must have realised we have ways of detecting it now. We've caught one too many Death Eaters for his liking, it was only a matter of time before he caught on.'

'Just goes to show you, you really can't trust anyone anymore. No one you don't know well,' said Hermione, with a hint of sadness in her voice. It was a grave day in the world the day that you couldn't trust a fellow wizard.

Ron's face contorted with anger, he looked as though he had eaten poison. 'And even those you do know well. Even those you call friends,' he spat, angrily.

Seeing his disdain at the line of conversation, Hermione asked hopefully, in an attempt to steer Ron away from talks about Harry, 'Did you catch who...' Her voice failed her, only in her head could she finish the sentence, 'killed Neville?'

Ron seemed to know what she was talking about though. Sure, it was easy enough to guess, but even if it weren't, Ron would probable know; he and Hermione were on the same wavelength in that way of speaking. 'Gone before we got there,' he said, suddenly looking ashamed. Truth be told, he had never felt more ashamed in his life. The Ministry had failed to find those responsible for killing a friend of his; he had failed. Ron had let Neville die in vain. Ron picked up a book in an attempt to clear his mind; the book had stood on a shelf to the left of him.

Ron grinned slightly at the sight of it as he read the title out loud ('A complete biography of the Dark Arts book 1' by Hermione Granger). He couldn't help but feel somewhat happier as Hermione watched him from the books cover, her eyes narrowed in a look of concentration with her wand firmly grasped in her right hand; a worse-for-wear looking Ogre lay unconscious on the floor. 'Finished the next one?' said Ron, gripping the book possessively.

'Not yet,' said Hermione, grateful that Ron had finally steered the conversation away from the dark, depressive and gloomy topic of Voldemort. 'There are a few things I need to do before book twelve is finished, but I'm getting there.'

Ron waved the book in the air, drawing Hermione's attention to it. 'I lost my copy of this,' he said with a poker face.

'Liar,' challenged Hermione. 'You threw it out.'

Ron appeared as a deer caught in headlights, spluttering wildly he tried to justify himself. 'I didn't... Well, I did, but... and then... but... and I was angry, and, the break up and everything....'

Hermione let him sweat a while, enjoying it immensely whilst he spat out fragments of justifications with a look of horror on his face as his "justifications" only served to dig him deeper. As Ron began on the topic of "Muggle national book throwing day" Hermione finally let him off the hook. 'Don't worry, I threw some stuff of yours out as well,' she said, holding her hands up ready to count down each item with fingers. 'That red dress-robe you bought me for one. You know, the one you spent two weeks trying to find because you couldn't remember which shop we saw it in. That mood-mirror you got because it perfectly matched the decor for another. Oh, and don't get me started on how many pictures of you I threw away, burnt, or cut up.'

'Curse anything?' said Ron, with a grin.

'I think I cursed that colour-change bear you gave me for our anniversary. It's now the nicest shade of green, with two horns and countless purple spots dotted across it's face... I've renamed him Ron. And you?' said Hermione, nonchalantly. It was as if they were discussing what to buy for dinner that night, or what to do at the weekend, rather then their unpleasant break-up.

'Oh... only everything of yours that I didn't throw out, break, or otherwise destroy,' said Ron with a tone matching Hermione's. 'I was just as childish as you about the matter.'

'Good!' finished Hermione. An evil grin played across her face. 'Oh, and don't worry about throwing away the book, Ron. I'll send you the complete series... Hardback version.'

'Marvellous,' said Ron sarcastically, though under his breath. 'Just what I wanted.'

With matching awkward grins, the two friends set about catching up with everything that had happened over the past six months; since the last time they had seen each other. Hermione explained exactly how she'd had time to write her eleventh book, whilst working as a go between for Ministry to the Resistance, and all the while acting as the headmistress of Hogwarts. She then told Ron everything important that had happened to or at the school recently, and, as Ron very well knew, a lot can happen at Hogwarts in the six months since they'd seen each other. Bu the time Hermione finished, it was well past lunch time, and both made a trip to the kitchen; Ron hopped to catch a glimpse of Dobby but Hermione informed him it was one of the House-Elves day's off. Ron, over lunch, talked Hermione, step by step, through his trip across Europe to some of the many other Ministry's headquarters. His tale included the attack by a group of hungry vampires in Transylvania—which Hermione made a mental note to write about; vampires being one of the few Dark Creatures she hadn't devoted chapters of her time to. The conversations began to grow dry as each avoided the main topics and issues that caused the conversations to grow awkward every few minutes whenever their names were mentioned in the same sentence, together.

'I miss you,' said Ron out of the blue. He hastily swallowed his sandwich, and glanced at his three quarter empty cup of Hundred Herb Tea (Though he still hadn't drunk one sip, it was nearly almost empty through evaporation). If he blushed in the least, it went unnoticed; perhaps his red hair swamped any blushing.

Hermione on the other hand almost glowed with colour. She clumsily knocked over her cup in a way much similar to how Ginny used to react to Harry. The china smashed into a hundred pieces with a loud crash, and Hundred Herb Tea was spilt all over the desk. Still glowing with colour, Hermione leapt up to clear the mess, and, still looking away, coughed out what sounded like, 'I miss you too!'

Both stood rooted to the spot for a moment, each unsure of what to do, until Ron opened his mouth

to say something. The words it seemed just wouldn't come out, and instead, he just gapped like a fish out of water. Trying again, he finally coughed out some words, though Hermione suspected these weren't the original words he'd intended but struggled to get out beforehand; which Hermione would much rather have heard.

'When are you seeing Dumbledore next?' said Ron darkly, having backed out of asking Hermione out; something else played across his mind.

'Tomorrow afternoon,' said Hermione, calmly. She could feel how grave the situation must be, just by Ron's voice and the look on his face. 'What is it?'

'We think someone in the Ministry is going to contact the Order,' said Ron, turning pale. Then seemingly reading Hermione's thoughts, he said, 'It doesn't matter how I know, I just do.'

Hermione shook her head, then walked across the room to a cabinet and back again, at slow pace. 'Dumbledore won't like it, and neither do I,' she said darkly. 'Contacting the order of Auror! We want to limit the number of deaths, not double them. Haven't you tried to stop whoever it is summoning them?'

'So your plan is to let Voldemort keep gaining power then, is it?' said Ron, with more then an edge of sarcasm. His resolve seemed to fade though as soon as he had said the words. 'I don't like it either, Hermione. Desperate times call for desperate measures. Harry's the only person that may be able to stop this on his own. If we had the time, then yeah, I would say let Dumbledore had it, but we don't. Casualties are building, Hermione, we need to finish You-Know-Who.'

'Harry's already wanted by Voldemort and I take it, Cornelius still wants him?' Receiving a nod from Ron, Hermione continued, 'If the Dementors got him—from either side—he'd be killed on the spot.'

An amused chuckle, that still spoke volumes of his anger, escaped Ron's lips. His current thoughts grew darker, with suppressed rage, he said, 'As if the Dementors would slow Harry down. If he can walk into a building full of good wizards, _on my information_, and kill three of them, and then get out without a scratch, I don't think a few Dementors will do anything. _It's only the rest of us that are affected by it_.'

'I'll tell Dumbledore then,' Hermione said stiffly, watching Ron clenched and unclenched his fist with fiery rage. As far as Hermione was concerned, steam might as well be coming from Ron's ears.

With a sneer Ron said, 'Oh just one more thing, Hermione. Lucius Malfoy's one of the three. You might want to tell Draco not to expect his dad to be walking much longer... Then again, best not go telling him anything, he is a Death Eater after all.' Almost as soon as he'd said it, Ron regretted the words. But like so often with Hermione, he spoke before he thought, and couldn't back down now.

Hermione stood up abruptly, visibly shaking with anger. 'You really should cut him some slack, Ron,' she snapped. 'He's risking his neck acting as an inside man!'

'Whatever,' said Ron flippantly, turning to leave.

'No, not "whatever,"' Hermione shouted furiously. 'It's bad enough that you _accused_ me of being a Death Eater....'

'Accused him,' Ron cut in, angrily. He, like Hermione, shook with anger. 'I accused _him_ of being a Death Eater, because he IS! There is no denying it, HE - IS - A - DEATH - EATER. I never once accused you. But every time, you have to twist it around, don't you Herm?'

'Then you accused me of conspiring with Death Eaters,' retorted Hermione. 'Nice to know you trusted me when we were dating, Ron.'

With each word said, the situation flew further out of hand. The tones became more vicious, more angry, more passionate. More emotion portrayed by both, more venom. Each answer became more of an insult then the previous. Both could feel it, but neither one could stop it. They were too much alike; both too stubborn, to stop it.

'It's not that I don't trust you. I don't trust Death Eaters,' said Ron in justification of his actions. 'Like Draco Malfoy.'

'You went to the Ministry, the moment you saw me talking with Draco,' said Hermione venomously, almost shouting. She glanced at the door, just to see it was closed—after all it wouldn't do to have the headmistress arguing like this—and then raised her voice another notch. 'You didn't trust my judgement in the matter. You just went right off with your Ministry stature, and told everyone how you saw poor, easily mislead Hermione Granger—teacher at Hogwarts—talking with a known Death Eater.'

'I DIDN'T TELL THE REPORTERS,' shouted Ron, through gritted teeth. 'I wouldn't do that. Besides, it's not Ministry policy to talk to them concerning anything to do with Voldemort.'

'Oh, and of course, you'd never break the Ministry's policy's' said Hermione viciously. Something inside screamed out not to carry on, screamed out to stop, just to leave it there. A voice told her that it wasn't worth it, but she wasn't listening. She was too carried away in the heat of the argument to stop. 'Because I'm sure telling someone how to get into the Ministry headquarters, and where everyone would be, isn't against Ministry policy.'

'You,' said Ron, waving a threatening finger at Hermione. His voice slowed, becoming ragged as he stifled down his anger that bordered on rage. 'I can't believe you would bring _that_ up. I can't believe you would throw _that_ in my face.'

'What, like bringing Draco up,' said Hermione, harshly. 'No, that's all right! It's all right for you to do it, isn't it Ron? Because you're never to blame are you Ron, with your smug, sarcastic jibs.'

'Yeah, well... can I keep this?' Ron shouted.

'Why?' shouted Hermione, suspiciously.

'Because I want to throw it out my window.'

'Fine!'

And with that, both turned their backs, and Ron, with strides as long and purposeful as when he came in, left. Not once did he look back. If he had, he would have seen Hermione wipe away the tears left by the confrontation. His anger took him all the way from the school building, onto the flowing lawns, until his own tears threatened to escape. Walking dazed and confused, he didn't see Hagrid (as almost impossible as that is) until he bumped into him.

****

End Chapter 2—Accusations, History and Relationships.

Coming up in chapter 3: Hermione announces to the school of Hogwarts of the possible arrival of the Order of Auror, with a mixed response. A conversation with Hagrid gives her something to think about regarding Ron.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.


	3. Dark Announcements.

Dark Marks, Orders and Auror's chapter 3.

Dark Announcements.

By Chris.

Summary: Hermione announces to the school the news of the Order of Auror's presence with a mixed response. An apology for their last fight arrives from Ron, and Hagrid gives her something to think about regarding her relationship with Ron.

Chapter 3

Dark Announcements.

Since the death of the Longbottom's were reported in the daily Prophet, some three day's after they had actually been killed (Another attempted cover up of the facts by the Ministry of Magic. Hermione seriously doubted that 'It stopped the spread of panic.' Surely not knowing was so much worse, especially when the Dark Mark had been there, bold as brass for all to see), the school had been in a stupor. Everywhere she went, Hermione saw pale and scared faces. Students walking together in groups, and jumping at shadows. Even the pictures on the walls, having heard that the Death Eaters had killed someone over at Hogsmead village, were acting odd: Several pictures had disappeared completely, and Hermione had only, the previous night, found out they were all hiding in a picture of a castle with a moat that had a sea monster guarding it; another picture, of a woman dressed in medieval clothing, seemed to have developed a fear of the dark, and to everyone's annoyance screamed loudly after sunset so much so, she had to be given a large number of candles to decorate the room she resided in; and perhaps the most annoying of all, was the Sir Cadogan, who challenged everyone that passed his picture to a duel, having accused them of being a death eater.

It was for these reasons, that Hermione had delayed telling the school about the rumours of the Order of Auror returning to the country. She finally realised she could put it off no longer, Dumbledore had agreed that people needed to know, and had told her she must have faith in the students. Now that the newspaper had got hold of the story (Though it was never printed; the Ministry pulled out all the stops to prevent it getting out. Hermione only knew the papers had it because Ron had sent her an owl on the matter), Cornelius Fudge already knew of the matter too, so keeping quite, to the contrary of what Cornelius himself believed, would help no one.

Outside, and reflected in the great halls roof, the sun shone brightly, with no trace of the typical late-summer rain. In fact, there was not a cloud as far as the eye could see in the light blue sky. As Hermione entered the great hall, the otherwise beautiful day seemed to turn dark incredibly fast. Most of the staff were already there, on the most part looking alarmed, having already heard the news from Hermione the day previous. Hagrid looked the most affected by the news, his usually cheerful face was white as a sheet, with his hair looking as wild as a trolls mane. Hagrid was sitting next to a shocked Professor Trawlery ('Bet she never saw that one coming,' thought Hermione, darkly.), staring straight ahead twiddling his thumbs, not even noticing Hermione enter. He looked tired and jumpy; Hermione knew he couldn't have got any sleep last night, she had been the same ever since she, herself, had found out. Snape had a look of loathing etched upon his face, which was scrunched up with his eyes narrowed menacingly. Hermione could see an unintentional snarl escaping from his clenched teeth when she announced it.

As she took her seat, Hermione wondered if her face resembled Hagrid's own look. Her hair must be near wild now, and she must clearly look very tiered; perhaps too tiered. Would the students all notice how fragile she looked now, and write home to their parents? Should she expect a letter of suspension from the Board of Governors writing her off as 'not good enough?' 

As students sleepily made their way into the hall for breakfast, Hermione's resolve only grew stronger. She would tell them, just as Dumbledore would have done if her were the headmaster still; rather then leading the fight against Voldemort. Slowly, one student at a time, the hall filled. It was full of happily chattering students, who conversed eagerly, many wiping their eyes to wake themselves up. It was always a different place in the morning, most of the students were carefree.

An hour later, after the students had all had time to eat—Hermione herself forced down a slice of toast, and some orange juice; Hagrid however hadn't eaten at all—and after the regular influx of owls that swooped en-mass into the hall carrying letters and parcels, Hermione finally debated whether the time to tell them was then. One excuse after another, Hermione found to delay telling them. What if they hadn't finished eating yet? They should be given time to digest. Some of them might be reading letters still. 

From her right, someone cleared their throat. She turned to see the beetle black eye's of Hagrid fixed on her. 'If yer goin' ter tell 'em, Hermione, now would be the time,' he said.

With a nod, Hermione got shakily to her feet, and cleared her throat loudly to get everyone's attention. 'If I could have everyone's attention... Russell White and Gale Dean!' 

The two third year students turned abruptly to face the headmistress's narrowed eyes, ceasing their conversation in it's tracks. 

'I have recently received some disturbing news from the Ministry. I know many of your parents will not agree with me telling you, but I believe, as I'm sure Dumbledore himself believes, you have a right to know. You are all very much a part of this war, and our world. I'm sure you are all aware of the deaths of the Longbottom's, and Alicia Spinnet-' 

A low whisper that had been gradually been growing louder throughout Hermione's talk eventually became full scale gossip, as many coined on to the fact that this had something to do with Voldemort (As if any 'disturbing' news had anything to do with anyone but Voldemort.). Hermione paused for a second to allow the whispers to die down, though a few students still insisted on throwing out theories, until of course Hermione's patented 'BE-QUITE-NOW' expression brought complete silence. 

'-As I was saying, I'm sure you are all aware that Voldemort has become more daring in his attacks now. That is why someone in the Wizarding world felt it appropriate to try and end this. Something is going to happen over the next few days, perhaps even weeks and months, that we should all be aware, and wary of. Your safety is what I aim to keep above all others, that is why all trips to Hogsmead are cancelled until further notice.' 

A loud groan escaped from the crowd, the third years in particular were the loudest, while the older years though disappointed, had already been to Hogsmead countless times before. A few of the first years, though groaning with the crowd, looked completely baffled as to what this 'Hogsmead' was until fellow students explained it under the cover of groans and moans.

'You can't do that,' someone shouted out, then realising what she'd done clamped a hand over her mouth and added in muffled haste, 'It's... Er... Not fair. I wanted to buy... polish.'

'Which you can use to clean the coats of arms during your next detention, Lea' said Hermione with a hint of humour. The girl immediately sat back down. 'Now I know the third years in particular wanted to visit Hogsmead, as, for some of you it would have been your first time in a completely Wizard village.' 

A few murderous looks spread across the Slytherin table, as those that had never seen a completely wizard village were more often then not those that had grown up in Muggle backgrounds. A trait that was not highly regarded in Slytherin house. Hermione seemed not to notice, and forced a small smile. 

'But at this time it is too dangerous. I did however pull a few strings, and this weekend, when the first Hogsmead trip of the term was due to take place, there will be two guest appearances; Fred and George Weasley will be here-' said Hermione, and then, with slight irritation added, 'no doubt giving out a few of their latest concoctions.'

This went quite a way to cheer up the school—as Fred and George were quite infamous in the Wizarding world, especially after becoming multinational; which they achieved after buying out Zonko products—in what was becoming an emotional roller coaster. Hermione waited patiently the eager talk to calm, then she would have to tell them something that would no doubt dampen most of their spirits. 

'The reason the trip to Hogsmead has been cancelled is that someone inside the Ministry is believed to have given information to the Order of Auror about how to come back.'

As some of the faces fell in the crowd, others seem to pick up, taking more notice.

'What faction?' someone shouted.

'The-' Hermione swallowed a lump that had suddenly formed in her throat, muttered 'sorry,' and then, for all to hear, darkly announced, 'The Two... The Ministry of Magic has brought in "The Two."'

The result was both mixed, and immediate: Many of the first years seemed to pale beyond all comparison, though some seemed not to know this word like so many others; one boy sitting at the end of the Hufflepuff table leant violently over, bringing back up the food he had just eater; a few people in the room broke out in muffled sobs, heads pressed firmly against the table whilst friends attempted to comfort them; some in the older years seemed completely awed at this announcement; and one group of Slytherin's seemed to revel in the fear and terror that was only matched by the fear and terror Voldemort brought; and the only other reaction was of hope.

'The Order of Auror!' Hermione heard someone at the nearest desk say.

'Not just any mark,' someone answered. 'Harry Potters! You-Know-Who's got his work cut out now.'

'NOW I KNOW THIS HAS COME AS A BIT OF A SHOCK-' Hermione shouted loudly, once again earning the attention of the students. 

'Hagrid, can you go and get Poppy please?' she quickly added in a hushed tone. 'Some of the first years are looking sick.'

'-but this doesn't mean things should change inside the castle,' Hermione continued, making some headway in calming everyone's nerves. 'Everything that's going to be happening over the next few weeks will be happening away from the castle. Hogwarts is the safest place in the Wizarding world-' she announced, though she couldn't help but think that the statement didn't mean much in these dangerous days. '-and nothing bad will come to pass here. Now, I'm sure you all have lessons to go to, and much gossiping. For the lady's, I hear on good grounds George Weasley is single again.' 

A genuine chuckle escaped from a few students. 

'Madame Pomfrey will be down shortly. If you're feeling ill, stay behind, and she will see to you.'

The majority of the school quickly shuffled out the three exits the great hall had.

~*~

Madame Pomfrey arrived a few minutes later, walking quickly to keep up with Hagrid who took his usual giant strides that were twice—some times thrice—as big as anyone else's. Grasped in her hand was a small bag, carefully woven from dragon hide, that sparkled ever so softly in gleaming yellow of the tapestry that hung high above. The ray's of yellow that hit, reflected into greens and soft reds, that had clearly once wrapped tight around a Norwegian Redback. Her frantic motions started the bag in a gentle sway, as one of ancient times would standing atop a giant wale in the middle of a gentle ocean, rocking to and fro with the breeze (Only it rocked to and fro with her step). As she continued her near running pace to stay side by side with Hagrid, the sway of the bag becoming more pronounced; swinging hastily in tune to her stride, slowing her down as it swung back, and almost tipping her over, as it swung forward. The short woman had to take quicker steps whenever the bulging bag—which was obviously full to the very brim with countless remedies, potions and treatments—came hurtling forward. 

The school nurse didn't look at all pleased, she was most adamant that Hermione should consider the consequences of telling the students about the Order of Auror, a name that, for some at least, invoked panic almost as much as the mention of Voldemort himself. With a scowl written plainly across her fat face, Madame Pomfrey immediately set about seeing to the few students that were left in the Great Hall, poking and pulling them about. 

Eventually the numbers began to dwindle, only a few students were left over, Madame Pomfrey looked at one of them in particular with a note of sympathy. He couldn't have been much taller then the Transfiguration teacher, Dave, and looked to be standing on unsteady feet. His eye's gleamed with a look of worry, and his hands trembled with fear. Rummaging through her bag, Madame Pomfrey soon pulled out a small clear bottle, in which a red liquid substance filled the bottle three-quarters. A label on the bottle, written in Madame Pomfrey's own handwriting, read:

__

Tranquillity Potion No.8

Warning: Contains Red Worttle Extracts.

Hermione remembered quite clearly that Red Worttle was a plant that grew only in selected regions of south Europe and Africa, and though renowned for it's potent relaxation properties, it could have some inadvertent effects if the Witch or Wizard was allergic to it's spores. Shaking the bottle, and after careful questioning, Madame Pomfrey gave a small amount of the liquid along with some orange juice to the boy.

Soon enough, most of remaining students were fine again, especially once they'd had time to fully digest the situation, and remember that Hogwarts was one of the few places 'The Two' couldn't enter. 

The student that had taken the "Tranquillity Potion No.8" left minutes later, through Halls left exit—which lead to the east tower—in a highly rambunctious, sing-song voice, that made Hermione wondered if perhaps Madame Pomfrey hadn't given him a little to much Red Worttle additive. 

As soon as the last of the students left, Madame Pomfrey retreated hastily back to the medical office, leaving Hagrid and Hermione alone in the great hall. The two friends and colleagues began to walk in silence to where they were due. Since both Hermione's office, and Hagrid's room were in the same area of the castle, they walked together for much of the way. Hermione thought about the situation over and over again, and about what she could have done to have caused less panic. In her daze, she almost walked into the corridor that had only been discovered last year but luckily Hagrid pulled her back. 

The empty corridor had been triggered by a secret lever disguised as a candle in one of the dungeons. However, this corridor wasn't like a normal corridor, it only had one entrance for a start, and liked to, annoyingly, transport people all the way to the other side of the castle whenever they walked through it. They would simply walk down it without realising what corridor it was, come to a dead end and return the way they came, but when the walked back, however, they would find themselves in the kitchen, the greenhouses; one student was even transported to a secret room that opened out into the lake. Since it's discovery, many a student had been late for class with wild story's of how they ended up the other side of Hogsmead. But in general, it was more of an annoyance then anything.

Having realised that Hermione was pondering over the situation, Hagrid finally spoke. 'They seem a lot happier,' said the half-giant. 'Yeh did the right thing, Hermione. It might seem bad now, but it'll be better in the long run. I'm sure o' it.'

'Yeah,' Hermione said faintly, as though not really believing it. 'I know that... It's just. I don't know...' Trailing off, the brunette seemed to search for the right words, chewing on her bottom lip as she always done when thinking. They reached the end of the corridor until she finally finished what was playing across her mind. 'Dumbledore would have handled it better.'

'Yer very much like Dumbledore. In many way's,' said Hagrid, thoughtfully. His beetle black eye's twinkling slightly as a burning candle—one of the few still lit—that hung from the wall shone off them, lighting up the whole of his face; a great contrast when compared to the dark of the corridor they were walking in now. Hermione, it seemed, had chosen a route that adequately reflected her mood. Whether or not this was intentional, Hagrid didn't know.

For a moment, Hermione seemed lost for words, her stride changing slightly, and she quietly muttered 'Thank you.' A slight blush spread across her whole face, and the edge of her mouth curled up in a grateful smile. 'I only wish it were true,' she said, with a hint of sadness behind the smile.

'Yer more alike then yeh think,' said Hagrid, waving his huge hands wildly to make his point. As he done so, he very nearly knocked an empty picture from it's position on the wall. 'It doesn't matter how Dumbledore would have handled it—and let me tell you, he wouldn't o' handled it any different ter how you did—what matters is, yeh done what yeh thought was right. Yeh didn't back down when yeh though the board of governors didn't agree with yeh. You and Dumbledore are the same in that way; yeh act with yer heart, and yer head. But yer different as well, Hermione. Yeh have ter remember, yer not Dumbledore. What yeh are though, is a good witch—the best I've seen in a long time—and a good person, one that I'm honoured ter call a friend. Yeh should stop trying to fill in fer Dumbledore, as if he were still the head here and do things yer own way. This is yer school...'

Hermione stopped abruptly, outside an empty room. The words Hagrid spoke, had, apparently, managed to get through. 'You know what, Hagrid,' she said, appreciatively. A smile formed on her face. 'You're right. Thank you.'

'What,' said Hagrid, blushing. 'Oh... Er, yer welcome.'

The two once again began walking, and turned right when they reached a junction with a coat-of-arms on either side. This time, however, the corridor was lighter then the others; a large window that opened up high above the rows of paintings let sunlight shine through. Soon they neared Hermione's office, passing a picture of a set of pixies who were trying to pull a large chest of gold back to their own frame (but quickly, and with muffled yelps, dived behind it, out of sight when they saw the Hermione approaching; one of them accidentally tripping over a small gold coin that had fallen out of the chest, and falling on it's flat, ugly face—that seemed reminiscent of a bulldog—with an angry shout).

Hagrid glanced back at the pixies who had resumed in their attempts to get the gold back to their frame, which stood the other end of the corridor. 'So, Ron came ter see yeh then, I gather,' he said.

'Yes,' said Hermione, stiffly. The heated argument with Ron still played on her mind, along with so many other things: The Order of Auror and the possibility of seeing Harry and Ginny again; the possibility of Harry and Ginny getting caught by the Dementors, or Voldemort; the revelations about Ron missing her, and of course, the argument; and last but not least, until that morning, announcing to the students the news about the Order of Auror. 

Quickening the pace, she looked to be debating whether or not to tell Hagrid about her encounter with Ron. She glanced around sceptically, narrowing her eye's as they passed the empty frame of the pixies, then gave in. Hermione explained what Ron had said about missing her, and how she had admitted that she missed him to. Hagrid of course, couldn't see the problem.

'You know,' said Hermione, hushing her voice so much so, that Hagrid had to bend down to hear what was being said. 'You know that it was Ron who told Harry exactly how to get into the Ministry headquarters? That if it wasn't for everything Ron told him, Harry wouldn't have been able to kill those people? Or at least, he wouldn't have been able to escape as well.'

'Yes,' said Hagrid, nervously. They had changed to an, until then, off-limits topic. 'Almost cost Ron his job in the Ministry.'

Hermione looked down to the floor, frowning. 'Well, I kind of threw it in his face,' she said, shamefully. 'We got into an argument—can't we see each other just once without an argument-' she asked herself. '-And I mentioned that.'

'And I bet he said some things that he didn't mean as well,' said Hagrid, still leaning over so as to keep the conversation hushed. His new moleskin overcoat that bared the Hogwarts logo, hung loosely to one side, draping along the floor.

'He brought up Draco,' said Hermione, still with the same look of regret on her face. 'But that's no excuse for me to have brought that up.'

The two turned one last corridor and at the far end, a large statue of a Gargoyle that marked the secret entrance to Hermione's office came into view.

'You and Ron have been like that as long as I've know yeh, both as stubborn as any person I've ever met,' said Hagrid. The half giant stood up straight, his back giving a protesting click as he done so. 'It's not my place to say... but if yeh ask me, yer both acting like students at this school, not like the headmaster, and someone in the Ministry o' Magic. Yeh have to ask yerself, how do yeh really feel about Ron? I know that Ron's crazy about...' Hagrid broke of abruptly, his face contorting with a look of horror. 'Forget what I said.'

'Ron came to see you, did he?' said Hermione, grinning like the cat that ate the canary. 'What exactly did he say?'

'Er ...' said Hagrid, looking shiftily around. 'I have a class ter teach... Gotta go... talk ter Ron.' Hagrid made a hasty retreat, continuing down the corridor to where his class was and eventually disappearing up a flight of steps.

Looking happier then she had in the past few days, Hermione muttered the password, and pulled something out of her clothes. She held it possessively for a moment, then opened it again. It was a letter... well, you could call it a letter... it had been delivered earlier that day by a large tawny owl, and had on the front simply the word '_Sorry ...'_ written in an all too familiar style. On the back, in a just as scruffy script, was written:

__

I couldn't chuck the book out the window...

But I am going to keep it.

It's the only picture of you I've got.

Love,

Ron.

****

End chapter 3—Dark Announcements.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.


	4. A Cave-Siren in Hogwarts.

Dark Marks, Orders and Auror's chapter 4.

A Cave-Siren at Hogwarts.

By Chris.

Summary: The Order of Auror—Harry and Ginny—arrive, their first visit to Hogwarts to see Hermione, just in time to save a student there. Harry's keeping suspicions close to his chest.

Chapter 4

A Cave-Siren at Hogwarts.

'You want to go dodge the Whomping Willow?' said Harry with a nostalgic air to him. 

Sure enough, as they rounded the corner, following a path that circled the school, in the far distance was the Whomping Willow. Settled behind a patch of other trees that had obviously been planted more recently, it looked almost harmless. It's huge fist-like branches looked static and void of danger as the tree stood completely still, the only movement, that of the leaves dancing softly in the wind. '-It could be fun.'

'I don't think so,' said Ginny, trying to sound disinterested. 'I think we are a little old for games.' Even after her own words registered, Ginny wanted nothing more at that moment, then to run up to the tree, and beat Harry to the knot-like root that opened the secret passage into Hogsmead.

'We play with our targets,' said Harry, shrugging. The wind blew his dark black hair—revealing the lightning-bolt shaped scar on his forehead—which he quickly combed down.

'And I keep telling you not to!'

'You do with all your spells,' said Harry in disagreement. 'Not to mention playing with your potions all the time.'

'It's called torture, Harry,' said Ginny. The were almost at the Whomping Willow, Ginny could almost see the root that opened the secret entrance. If she were to make a dash for it then, she would most definitely beat Harry to it. But of course, she was too stubborn to do so. 'What you do, well, it's all yap, yap, yap.'

'Are you sure-'

'No,' snapped Ginny. 'I do not want to dodge the Whomping Willow... I don't even know why you'd want to. If you're going to get sentimental, then at least do it over something you've actually done! When did you ever dodge the Whomping Willow before?'

'Well, once in a car by accident,' said Harry with a shrug. 'Okay then. Something else to do... Let's walk round the lake.'

'We're supposed to be here to-' Ginny begun, but, knowing her words would more then likely have no effect, she agreed to just one walk around the lake.

They neared the lake, not even a five-minute walk from the Whomping Willow, the body of water reflecting the dark sky above but with a shimmering property as it swayed with the wind. The soft wind, every now and then, cut darting streaks across the lake that seemed almost like silver ribbons before they were once again swamped by the blue. Twenty-five feet out, the water took a darker tone as the shallow waters met deeper ones. There, in the darker regions of water, a large black silhouette darted across the lake. Two large purple tentacles that protruded from the depths, reaching all the way to where Harry and Ginny sat on the bank, signalled the arrival of the giant squid.

'They are the best years of your life, aren't they?' said Ginny with a content sigh. The redhead chucked a morsel of food into the lake, the squid swallowing down whatever it was quickly.

'Now who's getting nostalgic, Gin?' gloated Harry. His eyes met Ginny's as he stared down at the woman that was lying on the grass, her head resting on his lap.

'You know,' drawled Ginny. 'I have a serum of my latest potion in my cloak.'

'And on that note,' said Harry, promptly. 'I would like to add that I feel, in my opinion, no one here is getting sentimental, and furthermore I would like to quickly change the topic.'

'I don't see how we got in here, though,' said Ginny, getting to her feet. The witch dusted her cloak down, sending blades of grass cascading into the waters edge witch caused tiny ripples to break out reaching out into the waters depth until they disappeared.

'Hmmm,' said Harry, still staring into the body of water.

'Another blunder by the Ministry?'

'I don't know,' said Harry. With a grunt, he pushed himself to his feet, not bothering to brush away the grass on his cloak. 'You'd think the Ministry would do this right. You'd think they would make sure of it, the way they reacted.'

'Yeah, but it has to be... come on, we better get going.'

Harry and Ginny continued walking towards the castle door itself. Five minutes later, the huge oak mass was in sight, looking as bold as ever. They managed to slip inside still wondering exactly how they'd managed to get past the Ministry charms so easily.

'We should go see the fat lady,' chuckled Harry. 'And our old dorms... What do you think the password is?'

'I have no idea,' said Ginny. 'Perhaps they recycle passwords every few years. Might be something we used when we were here.'

'Well, It's better then my guesses,' said Harry. 'You don't think "Please open" would be the password, do you?'

Minutes later, they both found themselves at a flight of stairs, at the top, where a coat-of-arms stood either side, was a junction. The left passageway was a short cut to the Gryffindor common room. By going left, and then behind a great hanging tapestry, they would find themselves on the same floor, just south of the place they had once slept. The path straight-ahead lead—eventually—to the headmasters office, hidden behind the large gargoyle statue. The third path, that which snaked off to the right, winding down far beneath the ground floor, led to the dungeons that ran deep below the school. An icy cold already blew from the right, where, once, long ago, they had both had Potions lessons with Snape. They looked at each other, conflicting ideas running through their heads, they spoke at the same time. 

'Left.'

'Straight ahead.'

The decision was made for them. An ear-piercing scream coming from the right path made them both dart down to the isolated and icy cold regions below the castle. Whomever had screamed would more likely then not, not be heard by anyone but themselves; no one would be in the dungeons after dark. Both ran as fast as they could, cold mist escaping their mouths and nose whenever they took a breath. At the bottom of the stairs, they reached another junction. Harry glanced at Ginny for just a second, such a small insignificant glance, they barely made eye contact. They didn't even stop running; Ginny went right and Harry left.

Harry ran as fast as his legs could carry him, his feet pounding the rock hard floor, causing echoes so loud, he was sure someone would hear. Fifteen feet ahead, one of the doors to a converted dungeon was wide open, the lights within shinning out into the dark corridors outside. 'Ginny,' he shouted. He heard his voice again and again as it bounced off the walls of the thin corridor, but no one replied.

The room, had obviously once been a Defence Against the Dark Art's room (Judging by the dusty posters and decorations) but now stood unused. A boy stood in the middle of the room looking... Well, Harry didn't know quite how to describe it. He stood on shaky legs, wobbling ever so slightly as he took one step after another. His body, the way it shook, the way it took only tiny partial steps forward, looked as if it were being forced to do things against his will. As if it were fighting. But his face, his face held an expression of sheer happiness. A wide grin, that showed rows of milky white teeth, was plastered across his face, beneath twinkling, happy eyes. It took a few seconds for Harry to figure out what was going on, but hearing a gagging noise, he finally understood. 'Revealiosa,' he shouted, just as Ginny's heavy footsteps could be heard fast approaching.

Within a flash, a creature appeared on the floor meters from the boy, who was still walking towards it. Every now and then, the student would gain control and take a step back causing the creature to flinch. An ugly dull-brown, the creatures skin was wrinkled and sagged, deep gashes and cuts marking it's body. No more then three feet tall, the creature was one of the ugliest Harry had ever seen, and that included going to every one of Hagrid's lessons without fail when he was at Hogwarts. Underneath the wrinkled skin, the creature was unnaturally thin; the bone structure could be made out where the skin didn't hang. Even more frightening, were the long thin arms that extended out from the creatures skinny body, eventually ending in four sharp, blood covered claws almost five inches in length, that curled round so much, they were starting to dig into the creatures wrist drawing blood. A foul, gagging noise filled the air as the creature shook, the skin wobbling in rhythm. 

Holding out and open hand, Harry made a tight fist and the gagging noise stopped; the room silent except the heavy breathing of the three people.

The boy suddenly realised where he was, a visible shiver ran through him, and, taking one look at the creature he shouted loudly and dived towards Harry and Ginny.

The beast, realised it's prey had awoke, and that other people were infringing on it's hunting ground, because it turned to face Harry and Ginny, revealing blind, milky white eyes and a mouthful of long, dagger-like, rotting teeth. As it dove at the trespassers, obviously enraged at loosing it's lunch, Harry held out his free hand, open palmed, and the creature seemed to hit an invisible barrier mid air. It fell back to the ground hissing angrily. Like a caged animal, it threw itself again and again at the people, but each time hit the barrier. Harry's elbow bent unwillingly each time the creature hit collided with the obstruction.

Harry glanced fleeting at the boy. 'You know what that is?' he said.

'What,' said the boy, as though snapped out of a daze by Harry's words. 'Sorry, what?'

Ginny pulled the boy to his feet, wrapping her cloak around his shivering form. 'Do you know what that is?' she said, softly.

'No, sorry.'

Harry seemed to be completely wrapped up in keeping the beast at large, but managed to grunt, 'Fill him in.'

'It's what's called a Cave-Siren,' said Ginny, looking for recognition in the students eyes. 'Ever heard of one?'

'No,' said the boy, weakly.

Harry once again spoke, still sounding as though her were struggling to talk. 'That's because the last group of them were exterminated from the British Isles fifty years ago. There are only small groups of them alive in the African tropics now. So what's it doing here?'

'You don't think...' said Ginny, trailing off before finishing. 

The creature once again threw itself at the barrier and fell to the ground, and Harry once again flinched. 'No! Not even Hagrid would keep one of these,' said Harry, using the brief amount of time the Siren was floored to speak. 'These things are dangerous. Definitely creatures of ancient; on par with Basilisks.'

'Basilisks,' mouthed the boy, his dry throat no longer able to form words.

'Have you heard of a creature called a Siren?' Sea-dwelling creatures that used to lure sailors to their doom,' said Ginny

The boy nodded.

'Well, these are kind of like land-versions of them. Just as ugly, and no less dangerous,' Ginny explained. 'Would you know how to kill a Siren?'

The boy just shook his head.

'Well you're going to kill this one,' said Harry flashing the boy another glance. Seeing the pleading look he received, he added, 'Don't worry, we'll be here all the time. It won't be able to hurt you as long as we're here. You have to face your fears though, sooner rather then later, or they just grow. Always face your fears; never let them get the better of you.

'Do you know about the Imperius curse?'

The student looked at Ginny. 'Yes,' he said, barley above a whisper. 'It's used to control a wizard. Make them do things against their will.'

'Right' said Ginny. 'Well, the Siren is a powerful magical creature. It sits in wait, picks a victim, and when it has chosen it lure's that victim to it with a song. The song is kind of like the Imperius curse, but only to its victim. The victim hears a wondrous song, heavenly in fact—or so I've heard, Cave-Sirens are before my time—and follows. Everyone else just hears a gagging noise.'

'The victim just walks straight to the Siren; lured by it's most beautiful song, and then, BAM-' The boy jumped as Harry shouted the last bit, but never said a word. '-the siren kills them. The Wizard or Witch-'

'Or Muggle,' added Ginny. 'Plenty of those killed by Sirens.'

'-Or Muggle, never knew what hit them. Its song is what's most dangerous. Powerful magic. That's why I'm struggling to hold it back. I'm having to silence its song—not an easy thing to do—and hold this barrier spell in place. But the song is its weakness as well. To kill it, you have to resist its song.'

'I can't,' whimpered the boy.

'Yes you can,' said Harry, angrily. 'We know you can! We heard you break the song enough to shout out for help a minute ago. You can do it again.' Harry threw a glance at Ginny. 'Show him the spell.'

Ginny took out her wand and waved it in a figure of eight motion, saying, '_Reisyance_.' Tiny blue sparks jumped from the end of her wand and flew towards the Cave-Siren but instead hit the barrier with an array of lights, never making it to the beast.

'Thanks for that,' muttered Harry.

'Sorry,' said Ginny, biting her lip. 'The key to resisting the song is to try and concentrate on a gagging sound. Listen with everything you have in you for it's true song. When you're out of it's control, keep listening for the gagging, and you'll weaken it. The longer you resist, the easier the spell will be. You try it.'

The boy drew his wand, the device shaking in his trembling grip. In a fluid motion he swished a figure of eight and squeaked, '_Reisyance_.'

Nothing happened.

'Pronounce it: RE-ISY-ANCE,' said Ginny. 'Give it another go.'

Once again, the boy spun his wand in a shaky grip, and said the words. This time it worked. From the end of his wand, a spray of blue sparks darted straight for the creature, once again causing a show of multicoloured lights as they hit the barrier. He practiced three more times, each time, the show of sparks became greater and more spectacular.

'You're ready,' said Harry. 'When I-'

'One more go,' the boy gasped.

'The sooner you do it,' said Ginny, encouragingly. 'The sooner you get to go to leave.'

'Alright,' said Harry shooting an encouraging grin at the boy. 'On the count of three. Three... two... one.'

Once again, a sickening gagging filled the air, and the boy who had looked anxious, terrified even, seconds before, looked as though Christmas had come early. One tentative step after another, he approached the now pacified beast. Ginny and Harry practically cheered the boy on.

'Come on.'

'You can do it.'

The boy was getting dangerously close. He took one half-step forward, then paused abruptly. His facial expression had changed from that of joy to a picture of concentration, his head tilted at an angle to allow him to listened for a gagging sound. He took a step back, and the creature hissed and visibly cringed. Another step back, the beast cringed again, it's whole body shaking. 

'Listen to the gagging. The gagging of the beast,' Ginny said even though the boy couldn't hear her.

Once again the beast cringed, digging its claws even deeper into its wrists, pools of blood forming on the floor. Another step back, and the gagging grew quieter. Then, with a wave of a wand, blue sparks filled the air, showering down on the beast which let out a hideous shriek, and collapsed writhing on the floor. Ginny and Harry rushed forward and caught the boy from either side just before he collapsed.

'Well done,' said Harry.

'Not many people can say they've killed a Cave-Siren these day's,' said Ginny.

The boy seemed to be in a daze, unable to even stand on his own two feet. 'Thank you Miss Granger,' he said with a silly grin. 'I'm happy to have been a help. Anything for your school, headmistress. And may I add how nice your hair looks today...' 

Ginny found the urge to laugh almost too much, as did Harry. 'What house are you in?' said Ginny, biting her lip so she wouldn't laugh.

'Hufflepuff, Miss.'

'Hufflepuff,' said Harry, sounding disappointed. 'Oh well, better that then Slytherin... Ginny, I think we should take him-'

The boy suddenly seemed wide awake. 'Ginny!' he repeated, opening his mouth in surprise. 'Ginny Weasley?.. Then that must mean you're.' His gaze shifted to Harry, where he stared wide-eyed at his lightning-bolt- shaped scar on his forehead. 'Harry Potter,' he mouthed.

'Nice going, Harry,' said Ginny.

'Well he seemed well out of it.'

The student stared at Harry and Ginny in complete awe. 'Whoa! What are you doing here?'

'We've come to see Miss Granger,' said Harry. He pretended to ignored the blush that engulfed the Hufflepuff's face at the mention of Hermione. 

'The thing is,' added Ginny. 'We were hoping to keep it quite.'

'Well...' began the boy, pausing to debate the matter. He was standing with two of the most famous, and feared wizards and witches of modern times. The only two people, apart from Albus Dumbledore that had ever stood up to Voldemort... He'd be famous just for meeting the two fugitives, not to mention the fact he defeated a Cave-Siren... Then again, he owed them his life. 'Okay, I'll keep quite, because you saved me from the Siren, so you can't be that bad.'

'We didn't save you,' said Harry. 'That wasn't us-'

'That was you. You-'

'I think I was talking-'

'Grow up, Harry. You defeated that Siren... Er...'

'Marcus. Marcus Lockey.'

'You defeated that Siren, Marcus. We just pointed you in the right direction.'

'I will not grow up. I was talking... We best get you to your dormitory, Marcus.'

Ginny picked up the brown bony creature that laid dead on the floor by its feet. Harry shot her a disgusted look. 'What? We should show it to Hermione,' Ginny defended. 'There could be more of them.'

'What do you mean, "grow up"?'

~*~

Harry and Ginny walked Marcus Lockey back to his common room in case there should be any more Cave-Sirens. Fortunately, there was not, and the journey was filled with jokes, tales of Harry and Ginny's years at Hogwarts, and of course, quite bickering regarding the "Grow up" situation. The journey to Hermione's office wasn't quite so easy however, and had a very close encounter with a teacher that prowled on of the hall. At one point, if the teacher had taken two steps more, he would have seen Harry and Ginny. Soon after the close encounter, they found themselves outside a large gargoyle statue that opened into the headmasters office. After much deliberation of how to get in, Harry and Ginny did finally get past the stone block, not by guessing the password or by using magic, but by luck. Hermione somehow knew they were there and had let them in.

'Harry, Ginny,' said Hermione, hugging them in turn. 'How did you get in here?'

'We don't know,' shrugged Harry. 'The Ministry probably screwed up again.'

'Take a look at this,' said Ginny. She dropped the Cave-Siren onto Hermione's desk; the body squelched as it hit.

'Is that what I think it is,' Hermione begun. The headmistress removed the creature from her desk and dropped it to the floor where she proceeded to prod and poke it with her wand. 'Oh my,' she gasped. 'Where did you find this?'

'Just rescued one of your students from it in the dungeons,' said Ginny. 'There might be more,' she added.

Hermione looked nervously at the Siren on the floor. 'Do you think it was sent on purpose?' she asked.

'Possibly. We don't really know. But you best not take any chances though, they have been know to travel in groups,' said Harry.

Hermione looked nearly sick; her face turning pale. 'I'll send an owl straight away,' she said quickly, mentally kicking herself. 'I can't believe I let one of those things get in... And nearly get to one of the students.'

'You couldn't have known. They're supposed to be extinct from the British Isles, and most of the world for that matter,' said Harry.

'We've never seen one before,' said Ginny, still surprised that they'd come across such a creature. 'And we've been all over the place.'

'I know. But still....'

'Still nothing,' said Harry, expressively. 'There was nothing you could have done, trust me.' His eye's fell on a letter Hermione grasped possessively in her hands. She must have been reading it before they arrived. 'What's that?'

'A letter from Ron.'

Harry grinned. His two best friends had been together for as long as he could imagine, and not without reason, they made a perfect couple. 'How are you two doing?' he said.

'Yeah, when's the wedding?' said Ginny with a grin of her own. 'I expect to be a brides maid.'

'We broke up six months ago.'

'Oh!' Harry and Ginny said together, looking extremely uncomfortably. Harry shifted uneasily in his seat, as did his counterpart, neither knowing what to do or say. 'Sorry.'

'I can't believe you didn't know,' said Hermione, astonished. 'We had a bad argument over something, and one thing lead to another... It wasn't nice. But I think we're mending. He even asked me out to dinner-' Hermione crossed the room to the chest of draws and put the letter in one of them. 

Ginny just got a glance of something both familiar and interesting before Hermione closed the draw again. The red head tapped Harry under the table, but Hermione started speaking again, and he wasn't paying attention.

'-But enough about me,' continued Hermione. 'How have you two been? What have you been up too, apart from tackling Sirens and taking down Death Eaters?'

'Well we've mainly just been running from the Ministry and Voldemort,' said Harry in a much too flippant tone. The three of them shared an awkward laugh. 'But, yeah, mostly we've been catching dark wizards left, right and centre.'

Hermione finally took in Harry and Ginny's clothing. 'Dressing like a Dementor now, are we? Don't you think that's a bit much?' she said, disapprovingly.

'Maybe,' Harry drawled, slyly. 'But you know what else is a bit much?'

'No, what?' said Hermione, warily.

'Snape,' said Harry with his version of a look of disapproval. 'Severus "I'm a slimy git" Snape.'

'Almost ran into him on the way up here,' explained Ginny. 'It's like he has a homing device.'

'I can't believe he's here,' said Harry looking pointedly at Hermione. 'That you would hire him! Don't tell me you let him get away with what he used to?'

'Maybe we should pay him a visit,' said Ginny with a smirk. 'I'm sure he'd love that.'

'Leave Snape alone. I don't want you stating a fight in my school. I mean it!' Hermione warned.

'Okay then...' said Harry, sighing like a child who didn't get their own way. 'But I was really looking forward to it....' Harry suddenly changed the topic. 'Oh, Herm, have you got any news or messages for us from Dumbledore?'

'No, Dumbledore didn't ask me to give you any messages.'

Ginny kicked Harry under the table as she once again attempted to get a message across to him. 'Oh,' said Harry glaring at Ginny. 'OH...' Harry suddenly caught on. 'Er... Hermione, you wouldn't have anything to drink, would you?'

'Sure,' said Hermione, tapping the desk with her wand. Immediately a silver machine popped up from the desk. 'What would you like?'

Harry and Ginny replied together:

'Butterbeer would be nice.'

'I'm fine thanks.'

Hermione poured out a large glass of butterbeer for Harry and again offered Ginny a drink which she declined. 

Harry accepted the drink and gave Hermione a small grin. 'Thanks.'

Ginny stood to take a look at a book that stood on a shelf next to Hermione's chest of draws whilst Harry sipped his butterbeer waiting for her to give the sign. As soon as Ginny coughed, Harry immediately, "accidentally" spilt some of his butterbeer. 'Oh god, sorry. Here let me get that.'

'Don't be silly Harry, I'll get it,' said Hermione darting forward to clean up the mess. Ginny used the diversion to open the chest of draws and slip something into her robes.

'Sorry,' Harry muttered again, feigning embarrassment.

'We best be off then,' said Ginny.

Hermione looked disappointed. 'So soon?'

'No rest for the wicked,' Harry grinned. 'Listen Herm, things should settle down soon. Things involving me and Gin. When they do, we should all get together again. The old gang, the dream team, back, live and kicking.'

'I look forward to it. Send me an owl...' said Hermione hugging her friends goodbye. 'It was good to see you again Harry, even if it were only for a few minutes. You too Ginny, I'll tell Ron and your family how well you look.'

'Thanks.'

'Good to see you too, Herm' came simultaneous responses as Harry and Ginny made a hasty retreat. 

Almost as soon as they had arrived, Harry and Ginny were gone, leaving Hermione alone to ponder the strange meeting with the friends she hadn't seen in a long time.

~*~

'What was it?' asked Harry, excitedly, once they were outside the castle approaching the edge of the forbidden forest. 'What did you get?'

Ginny produced the sheet from her robes. 'Here I though, since you were getting sentimental, you'd want it.'

Harry had to look at what Ginny had handed him twice before he realised what it was. 'Cool. Thanks Gin.'

At the edge of the forest, a crow cawed loudly.

'Well, look at that,' said Harry. They watched the black bird dart across the skyline and over the castle tops until it disappeared. 'Who would have imagined, a crow?'

****

End Chapter 4—A Cave-Siren at Hogwarts.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.


	5. The Order of Auror.

Dark Marks, Orders and Auror's chapter 5

The Order of Auror.

By Bob... No, er...Chris. Yeah, that's it. Jeff.

Bate-raed by no one.

Summary: After a—bad—Care of Magical Creatures class, Hagrid explains to an anxious student—whose father is in a task force; whose goal it is to take down 'The Two'—just why the infamous Harry Potter, his faction: 'The Two,' and the Order of Auror are so feared amongst Wizards. Contains spoilers for prequel fic., 'Harry Potter and the Rings of the Sorcerer'.

Chapter 5

The Order of Auror.

With the same thing on his mind as had been haunting him over the previous few day's, Hagrid had to force himself to go to his lesson with the third year Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw's. Making sure he took the longest route to the classroom he knew, he arrived just as a large crowd appeared from the corridor opposite him. He waved to a few familiar faces (from his fourth year class), offering them a glum smile as he waded through the sea of body's to his classroom. 

Inside the huge room, several rows of desks ran from the very front where Hagrid's own desk was, to about three-quarters up the room. Seated already, were the third years Hagrid had that period for a double 'Care for Magical Creatures' lesson. At the far end of the room, several over sized cages were positioned one atop the next, stacked all the way to the ceiling. Though most stood empty—Hagrid didn't agree with caging the animal's up—the few animals, or rather beasts that were in a cage were making an awful din. 

In the bottom row of cages, a creature that resembled an oversized goldfish hung, floating mid-air, it flapped its fins manically in an attempt to keep airborne. Every now and then it would growl loudly, setting off a two headed Dragonet (A miniature dragon-like-creature, that only grew six inches tall, and 16 inches long) which would squeak, sending—as they couldn't blow fire—puffs of smoke into the air. By most the noisiest creature however, was the northern-howling gerbil. Bouncing around with the energy only a small rodent could show, it howled and screamed whenever Hagrid tried to talk, somewhat resembling a wolf during the full-moon. Unfortunately, so far, unlike the other two, Hagrid hadn't a clue as to how to stop it doing so.

'Righ', who wants ter feed the Dragonet?' said Hagrid, walking over to his desk, and slumping down. 

A sea of raised hand's later, and two students were hand feeding firedrops to the two heads of the tiny beast, which hungrily gulped down the treats, and sent a victorious puff of smoke into the air. ('Ah, it's so cute,' agreed a chorus of girls.)

'Now, we need someone ter pet the floatin' fish ... Anyone?' said Hagrid not really expecting an answer; within the class, you could almost hear a pin drop. 'Oh, come on... You'll all be wantin' ter when it gets its golden scales and singin' voice through.'

One of the Hufflepuff girls warily raised her hand, volunteering to pet the floating fish, receiving a few blank, and a few "what-are-you-crazy" looks from her friends when she done so. While she petted the growling fish, which eventually sent it into a deep sleep, Hagrid had someone else try feeding, walking, shouting at, and as many different things as he could think of to quieten the howling gerbil; without luck.

'Yer all in the same Herbology class, aren't yeh?' Hagrid asked, some of his excitement breaking through his glum mood, showing again with more enthusiasm when he received nod's of agreement.

Pulling out a large box with punctured holes in the top, which had been hidden under his desk, he eagerly pushed everything aside knocking a few things off the desk to make room for the box: namely a few books on dragon care (Which could also be applied to dragonet's, or so Hagrid said. Many believed he was hiding a dragon somewhere deep within the forbidden forest.); a black quill; and almost a bottle of ink. Luckily a Hufflepuff boy dived forward from where he was standing, acting on instinct alone, and caught the bottle just centimetres from the ground.

'Did professor Sprout show you the Fur-bulb plant,' said Hagrid, his beetle black eye's twinkling with anticipation.

'Were they the short green plants with mauve branches that kept turning away from the sun?' said a Ravenclaw boy.

'Yeah, ours kept on drinking our ink,' said a girl sitting next to him wrinkling up her nose, and muttering, astounded, 'Ink!'

'It was just hungry,' said Hagrid. 'Eatin' fer twelve, wasn' it! Probably had a cravin' fer ink. They have the strangest cravin's, I once had ter feed one nothin' but wands an' spellotape—cost me a ruddy fortune—had ter go ter the broken wand office ter get it food... Cheaper that way.'

'Twelve -' someone said in shock. 'You mean, it's having babies?'

'Yeah,' grinned Hagrid, lifting the plant out from the box. 'It's having twelve little Fur-seeds.'

The plant looked very different now to how it had months earlier when the class had examined it, and extracted the special fluid it produces during one Herbology lesson. It still had the same large fluffy purple base that sunk deep into the soil, out of which the green shoot grew. But instead of tiny pods on the tips of the mauve branches, there were now huge spherical swellings—each 5 inches across—that had caused the branches to bend over so much so, the lumps had been resting on the bottom of the box, leaving unsightly creases in the unhealthy shoots. The swellings were brightly coloured, luminous mauve in colour, though the rest of the plant seemed drab and exhausted.

'Ready ter open,' said Hagrid, waving his hands to get the class to come forward. 'At least, they will be in a minute... Come on all of yeh, come closer—You won't see anythin' from there.'

Having had a few months worth of lessons experience with Hagrid, the class already knew he had more then a liking for what other people would call "monsters". The class, with great apprehension, crowded round the desk, with those at the front looking as though they'd drawn the short wand.

'The fur-seeds wouldn't normally come out 'til the beginnin' o' next year,' Hagrid explained. 'When there's lot's o' food fer them ter eat.' Taking a small bottle labelled "_Magi-Grow,_" that was filled with a violent yellow liquid, from the bottom of his desk draw—which he held up for the whole class to see—he poured a small dribble onto each of the bulbs, telling the class, 'Full o' nutrients... should see 'em hatch immediately.'

When someone asked about the 'hatching' in reference to the plant ('Plant's don't hatch ... they grow from seeds'), Hagrid refused to tell them what he meant, insisting they should 'Wait an' see.'

After twenty minutes of waiting around (During which the flying fish had to be petted again, and the howling gerbil was finally silenced when it ate someone's sleeping potion—which was supposed to be a handed in after lunch that day during potions lesson.), one of the pods gave a small shudder, and squeaked what sounded remarkably like, 'food!'

'Did that thing just talk,' asked a tall, blond Ravenclaw, taking a step back from the plant, as did the rest of the class. More then a few of the students looked apprehensive, though a few seemed to be amused by the idea of a talking plant.

'O' course,' said Hagrid, looking as if the boy had just asked if one add one equalled two. Well, perhaps not that exact look, as Hagrid wasn't very good at maths, it seemed to be more of an "Of course that's a Chinese-Fireball-Dragon and not an Ancient-Oriental-Fireball" look. 'What did yeh expect it ter do, Cluck?' The boy just opened and closed his mouth, unsure of what to say.

As the bulb's twitches grew stronger, a few of the other purple pods began twitching as well, and, sure enough squeaks of 'food,' followed. The entire class stood transfixed until all the bulbs—some ten minutes later—were jumping about frantically. As the pods jumped to and fro, the branches began to resemble walking leads from which the pods were trying to escape. Slowly, the leaves of the first pod began to peel away.

''Ere we go,' said Hagrid excitedly. 'It's hatchin'. Yer all goin' ter see fur-seeds.'

Beneath the mauve leaf covered pods, a small purple mass of fur stood. Beneath the layer of fluff—which gave the appearance of a small purple cloud—two beady black eye's twinkled above a large mouth so huge, it took up most of the surface of the creature. The "fur-seed's," it seemed, were nothing more then one huge mouth around which a bundle of fur grew. As with the Dragonet, a few 'Ah's', and 'oh's,' escaped the mouths of the class, with mutters of 'It's so cute' filling the air.

'Cute!' Hagrid said, sounding scandalised, his beard twitching wildly. 'It 'ain't cute...' Dipping a hand in a bag—which many only just realised was there—that stood next to his desk, Hagrid pulled out a dead mouse. 'It's a magnificent creature...' said Hagrid, angrily waving the mouse in the air by the tail, the dead creature wobbling to and fro as Hagrid continued to wave at the class; whom all cringed away from the corpse. 'Beau'ful even, but it ain't cute... Watch,' he finished, muttering under his breath, 'Cute indeed!' 

Placing the mouse next to the fur-seed, he stepped away, signalling for the class to do the same. 'Uh, if yer squeamish, yeh might wanna look away,' said Hagrid, not taking his eye's off the mouse.

The little furry ball waved about on tiny legs as if in a gentle breeze, sniffing the air (Which was incredibly odd as it had no visible nose). It finally stopped; it's beady little eyes fixed on the mouse, which was only slightly smaller then it's own body. Hopping over, it poked the dead body, and then suddenly, let out a feral, ear-piercing shriek that: caused almost the whole class to scream with fright (Though the boy's would insist it was a manly shout); woke the floating fish which set the Dragonet off yelping with anger; and caused someone to knock over a pot of ink. The fur-seed opened it's mouth at an impossibly large angle much the same as a snake could, and swallowed the mouse whole, shaking its body violently as it attempted to jam the rodent in.

'Each take a fur-seed as it hatches,' Hagrid instructed to a wall of pale faces. 'And don't wave yer hands around... Remember ter wear yer dragon-hide gloves... yeh did all bring 'em, didn't yeh?'

The rest of the lesson went past quickly, though for many students not nearly quick enough. The fur-seeds gorged on mice, one after another, almost tripling in size before the end. Though the fur-seeds seemed extremely violent, feeding them seemed to go off without hitch, for the most part. One Hufflepuff boy though, seemed to struggle with just about anything he did that day. He clumsily knocked over things everywhere he went, accidentally fed the fur-seed one of his text books, and nearly got bit twice; only just managing to get his hand out the way in time. It was only the instincts he picked up as seeker that allowed him to escape with both hands intact. Six minutes before the end, the same boy managed to get Hagrid bitten as well; completing the disastrous lesson in the same way he'd started it. The fur-seed latched onto the half giant's hand and refused to let go for a whole five minutes.

'Alright everyone, make sure yeh remember what yer fur-seed looks like. Yer pottin' 'em next Herbology lesson, I think,' said Hagrid, just before the bell for next lesson rang. 'An' fer homework, I want yeh all to read yer books an' find out what makes fur-seeds so important.'

As the class filed out into the crowded corridor outside, Hagrid called out for one of Hufflepuff's to stay behind. The boy looked more then disturbed by this, waiting until the class was gone before spluttering out, 'Sorry, I didn't mean to... do all that stuff.'

'Did yeh like the fur seeds?' Hagrid asked warmly, breaking up a fight that had started between two of the fury purple creatures. 'Gonna have to put 'em in separate boxes... So, did yeh like 'em? They're not my cup o' tea, but you lot seem ter like the small fluffy creatures best.'

'What?' the Hufflepuff boy gaped in shock. A look of confusion formed on his skinny face as he helped Hagrid put the fur-seeds in different boxes. 'Did I ... aren't you going to... because it bit you...'

'What this?' said Hagrid with a shrug he held up a dustbin-lid sized hand which had a circular red bite mark on the tip of his finger and gave another unconcerned shrug. 'I've had worse, believe me. Serves me righ' for not wearing gloves... I'm more worried about you.'

'Me,' repeated the boy, suddenly looking worried. His eyes darted frantically to the door, almost preying for someone to help him. 'I'm fine, really.'

'Marcus, yeh dropped yer sleepin' potion in Rosie's cage—not that I'm not grateful fer the quite, mind—I'll make sure ter tell yer potions teacher how good it was,' said Hagrid with a grin, before continuing, 'But so far today, yeh've also knocked over two pots o' ink—though yeh did save one pot from smashing as well—and fed yer Herbology text book to a fur-seed... not the kind o' grace yeh normally see in a star Seeker.'

'I've just got a few things on my mind,' said the boy in a panic. 'It's nothing really.'

'It's okay,' said Hagrid patting the boy on the shoulder like a close friend, almost sending the boy sprawling to the floor. 'If yeh want ter talk about it... bout yeh dad being in the Special Taskforce.' Seeing the boy's gaping mouth, Hagrid added, 'I know someone in the Taskforce... don' tell yer dad I know though, s'possed to be a secret, isn't it!'

'It's just... I don't even know what he's going up against,' said Marcus. 'Everyone keeps talking about how dangerous Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley are... But I don't really know anything about them.'

'Blimey,' said Hagrid almost dropping one of the boxes with fur-seeds in. 'Yeh don't know 'bout Harry and Ginny?'

The Hufflepuff looked unsure whether or not to continue; his voice sounding unsure, wavering, when he did. 'Oh, I know about Harry Potter, about how he stopped You-Know-Who the first time round, when he was just a baby. I know about how, when at Hogwarts he face You-Know-Who again. I know the good stuff he done. Everything I've read makes him out to be a good wizard... I don't understand why everyone's so afraid of him and Ginny Weasley... Every book that contained anything about 'The Two' or about 'The Order of Auror' was removed from my house when dad was first assigned to the Taskforce. I hate it that they won't tell me what's going on, as if I'm still in the first year or something.'

'They're just trying ter protect yeh,' said Hagrid. 'That's all... You saw the reactions o' some o' the students when Miss Granger made the announcement.'

'I just wish I knew, that's all,' said the boy slumping where he stood. Suddenly his eye's lit up and he looked at Hagrid with a grin. 'You knew Harry Potter Hagrid, didn't you?'

'Yeah,' said Hagrid suspiciously, 'but I don't see how-'

Why don't you tell me?' the Hufflepuff boy cut in. 'Tell me all about him and Ginny.'

'Uh... Well... I don't know if I should,' Hagrid Spluttered, standing up quickly he scooped up the boxes on his desk in one motion, and made his way to the cages at the back of the classroom in four huge strides. The majority of the large stack of boxes piled in his arms were jumping about wildly as the fur-seeds attempted to gnaw their way through the cardboard barrier. Marcus ran behind, picking up any of the boxes Hagrid dropped. 'Please,' asked the Hufflepuff. 'I have to know what my dad's doing.'

'Alrigh' then,' said Hagrid, after a moment's silence. The giant glanced around suspiciously to make sure no one was listening then took a huge breath of air, filling his lungs, he said, 'Fifteen years ago—well, fifteen years ago this November, anyway—Harry discovered he was what's called a "True Blood Sorcerer"... Yeh know what that is, don't yeh?' The boy shook his head, and Hagrid paused as if summing up his thoughts. 'It basically means—if yer a True Blood Sorcerer—that yeh don't need yer wand for most spells and hexes. They can do spells just by thinking about them, or just by moving their hands and saying a few words. You have to be able to do twenty percent of spells without a wand ter be labelled as a True Blood Sorcerer-'

'Wow,' said the Hufflepuff in awe, a hundred different questions popping into his head, each more exiting the next. His thoughts immediately changed to his encounter the night before, when Harry and Ginny had saved him from a cave Siren. He hadn't once see Harry use a wand, not even to perform such difficult tasks as creating a magic barrier or silencing the Imperius-curse-like song of the Siren. '-they don't need wands... How dose it work? How many spells could Harry do without a wand?'

'Don' know how it works,' said Hagrid with a shrug, 'no one does. Just a gift, like being able ter speak Parseltongue; yeh can't learn it, yeh just have ter be able ter do it. The closest thing to an explanation is they draw power from another wizard or witch. See, every True Blood Sorcerer—TBS for short—has a second wizard or witch called an Anchor they need ter be near ter do what they do. Otherwise they need a wand just like you or me...' Hagrid's eye's widened in shock at his slip of the tongue about using a wand, and he hastily added, in an attempt to cover up, 'Uh, I mean you! Harry's Anchor was Ginny Weasley... sweet little thing before all the nastiness, had a thing for Harry.

'As fer Harry's level—a level is the measure of how much potential as a TBS he had. It goes from one ter ten; ten bein' the highest—he was a ten, could do a sixty-seven percent o' spells without a wand... very high. Highest True Blood Sorcerer in a long time. Even higher then You-Know-Who.'

'You-Know-Who's a True Blood?' said the Hufflepuff, straining to take in all information he was being told.

'TBS? yeah,' Hagrid said through gritted teeth. 'Not many people know though, because he preferred to use a wand... That was he never had to rely on anyone else. Could do fifty-nine percent o' spells without a wand though; level eight... practically a level nine.'

Pulling over a chair, and making himself more comfortable, the boy asked, 'So what happened after that?'

'You-Know-Who went after Harry again in his fourth year at Hogwarts, but Harry got away,' said Hagrid with a note of victory. 'He just disappeared again—You-Know-Who did. Think he went underground building his support. Knew if he was seen, when most o' his supporters still hadn't rejoined him, he would have been stopped. So he just disappeared, an' the Ministry refused to accept he was back... Just what he wanted.'

'What happened to Harry,' asked the Hufflepuff completely enthralled.

'He was fine, graduated from Hogwarts and became an Auror; him an' Ginny. Anyway, 'bout ten years ago, You-Know-Who resurfaced, and Dumbledore was already trying to stop him gainin' too much power. Cornelius Fudge still refused to believe he was alive fer years, but eventually he joined forces with Dumbledore. In the end though, he thought the Ministry o' Magic could stop You-Know-Who on their own, and split away from Dumbledore—stupid move, gave You-Know-Who a chance, is what it done. Five years ago, Harry, he founded the "Order o' Auror"; wanted to get all the best Auror's together and workin' to stop You-Know-Who. Worked closely with Dumbledore fer a while. Then, two groups of the Order o' Auror decided ter split from the main body, take down as many dark wizards as they could, even if it meant killin' 'em on the spot, or injurin' innocent wizards ter do so. These two factions called themselves: "The Triads," made up of three wizards; and "The Dilourseys," who were a large coven of wizards and witches... bad news they were. Killed so many wizards on both sides. For some reason, don't ask me why, Harry and Ginny split from the main body month's later—called themselves "The Two"—along with a few other factions. Majority o' Auror's though left the Order and joined either Dumbledore, or the Ministry. The Two, the Triads and the Dilourseys all went after You-Know-Who. By that time they were all feared by a lot o' dark wizards... between those three orders, some people recon they killed close ter three hundred dark wizards...'

'Killed...' said the Hufflepuff who had turned pale, and struggled to continue. 'Killed three hundred.'

'That's probably an overestimate, eighty is probably closer ter the target,' Hagrid offered seeing the blood drain from the boy's face. 'Yeh sure yeh want ter know the rest?'

'Yeah, just give me a minute,' said the boy, and within seconds, Hagrid was on his feet pouring out a drink of water for them both.

'Here, drink this,' said Hagrid, offering the Hufflepuff the glass. 'Make yeh feel better.'

'Thanks,' said the boy feebly, gulping the water down, and staring mindlessly at the ground. 

'What... what happened after they went after You-Know-Who?' he finally asked.

Hagrid gulped down the rest of his water, and for the first time since starting the story sat down, as if, if he continued standing, his feet would give way.

'Well,' said Hagrid, the corner of his mouth twitching wildly. 'You-Know-Who was ready fer 'em... There's a reason he's the most feared Wizard in history... Killed all o' the Triads, and most of the Dilourseys—only three o' twelve left now. That only left Harry and Ginny. They tracked You-Know-Who for a while, rumour is, nearly got him too. O' course, nearly got killed a fair few times... S'cuse me, I need another glass o' water-' After gulping down several more glasses of water, Hagrid finally continued, his voice growing gruffer. '-Then one day, Harry, he just showed up at the Ministry o' Magic headquarters an' in front o' everyone there killed three Ministry members: Jason Flint, Daniel Henson, and Samantha Lee. Then he injured seven more escaping, including the Minister himself... ever wonder why Cornelius Fudge walks with a permanent limp? Got hit by a stray spell.'

'Why?' spluttered the Hufflepuff shaking his head. This definitely didn't seem like the Harry and Ginny he'd met the night previous. The Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley who had gone out of their way to save him, and even taken the time to help him face the Siren. They'd even walked him back to his dormitory regaling him story's of when they were at Hogwarts, going so far as to inform him of a secret entrance to Hogsmead that was hidden behind a statue. 'Why would he do that, it doesn't make sense...'

'Accused them o' being dark wizards, o' being in league with You-Know-Who,' choked Hagrid, his beard quivering slightly. 'Said he saw 'em with other Death Eaters.'

'And were they?' said the boy, on the edge of his seat. 'Were they dark wizards.'

'No,' said Hagrid shaking his head sadly. 'Wish they were, but they weren't. Two o' them were spy's fer Cornelius; he swore ter that. And the other one, Daniel Henson, there was no way he was a dark wizard, at least that's what everyone said.'

'Couldn't Harry have been under a spell,' said the Hufflepuff, straining to think. 'The Imperius curse perhaps... or they could have been dark wizards for real or...'

'Doubtful,' said Hagrid miserably. 'I don't think there is anyone with the magic in 'em to control Harry Potter. You heard what he done... in front of all those other Wizards. And Cornelius swore they were as straight as himself.'

'Why would he do it though-' said the third year, thoughtfully, feeling the need to defend the two that had saved him. 'There's no reason for it... It's ridiculous.' 

'Yeh sure yeh aren't in Ravenclaw,' said Hagrid with a small grin. 'Yeh think an awful lot-' ('Nah, I may think a lot, but I'm usually wrong...' said the Hufflepuff.) '-As far why he done it, You-Know-Who probably got ter him in the end. Harry had to face things as a youngster even fully fledged Wizards and Witches shouldn't have to face. Real shame... Yeh would never have met a nicer wizard at the start. Great person was Harry. Every bit yer perfect Gryffindor: Brave, daring, loyal, had a good heart... Same goes fer Ginny. I 'spose, in a way, they're both just another victim of You-Know-Who. Facing him is enough to bring out the dark side of anyone.'

'So what does my dad have to do?' the Hufflepuff said warily as he fidgeted awkwardly on the chair. He didn't want to believe what Hagrid was saying, but if it was true, if he'd misjudged Harry and Ginny—which was very possible; he'd only met them briefly—then his dad was in a very dangerous job.

'Oh, sorry,' said Hagrid, realising he'd missed an important part of the story out. 'When Harry and Ginny... Well, when that thing happened at the Ministry, Cornelius Fudge came under pressure ter stop the Order o' Auror, and ter stop Harry in particular. He promised the Wizarding community that Harry would be caught and killed.'

'Just like that?' said the boy, raising his eyebrows. 'No trial, or anything?'

'Not everyone is like you Hufflpuffs:' said Hagrid. 'Fair! They weren't even gonna give him a trial. The few Dementors that didn't join You-Know-Who—and I have no idea why they didn't—were to use the kiss if Harry was caught. So he did the only thing he could; flee the country.'

'And now?' said the Hufflepuff. 'What if he's caught now?'

'Same I expect,' said Hagrid sadly. 'The Task Force will probably try to catch him, and take him to the Dementors. Don't see how he could return though-' said Hagrid frowning.

'What do you mean,' asked the Hufflepuff.

'I mean, when Harry fled, the Ministry o' Magic used a lot of resources—to many if you ask me, considering You-Know-Who was gaining more power by the second—in making sure Harry couldn't return to a lot of places. Hogwarts among them, so we're probably the safest of all; as well as Hogsmead and a few other places that You-Know-Who's rumoured to be.'

'Do you think my dad will be alright?' said the boy.

'He'll be fine,' said Hagrid. 'He's in good hands. All you have to worry about is next lesson!'

'Why,' said the Hufflepuff warily.

'Were goin' ter be looking at Basilisk's' said Hagrid, and if possible, the boy paled even more.

****

End Chapter 5—The Order of Auror.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.


	6. Messages Anonymous.

Dark Marks, Orders and Auror's chapter 6.

Message Anonymous.

By Chris

Summary: Harry and Ginny seek their first targets. Hidden in an empty house somewhere in Hogsmead, Lucius is busy waiting for the Cave-Siren to claim it's first victim, and Draco pay's him a visit with consequences.

Authors note: I would like to thank everyone that has taken the time to read the fic., and especially to everyone that reviewed as well: Regina, Rhi, Raven of Death, No reply, and last, but not least, Spitfyre. 

Chapter 6

Message Anonymous.

Hogsmead was as empty as usual; the only sign of life came from the lights that shone from the windows, and even then, not every window. Most of the shops were closed; many owners that used to open at night were too scared now. This left the village cloaked in darkness, with an occasional dimly lit area of light cast from a window, or a ghostly flicker as light shone through thin material curtains. This didn't matter to Harry and Ginny though, quite the opposite in fact. They would rather no one saw them until everything was completed, it was much safer that way. Both for them, and for others. If they were seen, then the Ministry Taskforce would be called in, and that would only result in unfortunate injuries to good wizards, because no matter what, Harry and Ginny were going to end it all once and for all, no matter who stood in their way.

Their whole journey was spent in almost abandon, a goblin was the only thing they saw to remind them this was a magic village rather then just a quite Muggle one. It appeared even the threat of Lord Voldemort and his faithful Death Eaters could not deter these creatures from the lure of money. At least, that's what they assumed it to be doing, collecting something owed to it, that it had either won (unlikely), or cheated from wizards stupid enough to deal with goblins.

'There it is,' said Harry, looking up at the—apparantly—abandoned house that stood on the outskirts of Hogsmead. Though not quite as far out as the cliffs that Sirius Black had once hid from the Ministry in, it was still a fair trek out, where the Wizard density would be less and therefore less chance of the Death Eater being seen. Both stood for a long time just watching the house, not talking or discussing what they were going to do. For the moment being they just wanted to confirm that Lucius was where they were told he was. If he was, then everything else would probably fall into place, if not, then they would once again have to go back to the drawing board. After what seemed like hours, the stale silence that surrounded them probably making it feel much longer then it really had been, Harry saw a tiny flicker of light in one of the downstairs windows. It was so fleeting, Harry wondered if he'd imagined it, but seconds later the dull beam flickered from another room as Lucius walked about the house in darkness, with only the light of his wand to guide him. 'He's there,' Harry announced, his voice, after the long silence seemed to be much to loud. 'Our first target, Gin.'

'Do you think it was him?' said Ginny, thoughtfully. Though she didn't specify what exactly she'd thought Lucius had done, she really didn't need to, Harry seemed to understand her perfectly and had already drawn the same conclusion as Ginny. With a nod from Harry, both agreed it was Lucius who had released the Cave-Siren into Hogwarts. Voldemort was probably one of the few wizards in the world that might still be able to get hold of such a rare and dangerous creature. And with Lucius staying so close to Hogwarts, it seemed the only logical explanation.

'Oh, it was him alright-' said Harry, clenching his fist in anger. It made his blood boil that Lucius had probably tried to kill not only Hermione—that is whom, he thought, was probably the target—which was bad enough, that someone would try to kill his childhood friend, but to do it in a way as to risk killing innocent children was unspeakable. '-and he'll pay for it,' he said in a calm that didn't, in the least, reflect his mood. 'Oh, he'll pay for it all right.'

'How do you think he got in?'

'Probably,' said Harry, still clenching and unclenching his fists as he sought to control his breathing. 'Probably knows about the secret entrance to the school from Hogsmead. He went to Hogwarts some years ago, could have found the entrance while he was there.'

'At least we can make sure he doesn't do anything like it again,' said Ginny, her own tone turning icy cold; imagines of how they'd catch Lucius flashing through her mind, some of them making her shudder at the darkness of them. A pang of fear ran through her as it did so often when she thought about what she and Harry had done in the past. Many of the things as unspeakable as what Lucius had done with the Cave-Siren. 'Do you know what he'll do once he sees you?' she asked, hoping the slight quiver in her voice didn't show. Can you be sure?'

'I can't be sure, nothing is ever sure, that's why Divination is such an uncertain art. But I think he'll Apparate away. He's not stupid, far from it. Lucius is clever, devious, resourceful... that's why he'll go to one of the places we can't-'

The calm in Harry's own voice seemed to draw Ginny from her own thoughts, his words, his very voice even, having a relaxing quality to them that allowed Ginny to push all guilt to the back of her mind. She was once again Ginny of the Order of Auror, dark Auror who took pleasure in her work: Finding, and destroying dark wizards wherever she want. 'Or so he thinks,' grinned Ginny, nodding at the perfection of the plan, the almost ironic way they would get Lucius. 'His own slipperiness will lead him straight to us great plan,' she laughed out loud, a rare genuine laugh, 'glad I thought of it...'

'Yes,' said Harry darkly, not realising what Ginny had said, he was to deep in thought to fully register her words straight away. He was in the sort of state of though Ginny had been in second before. She wondered if he sometimes felt guilt as she did, though she was sure he did, he seemed to feel it a lot less then her. Perhaps he was already lost to the darkness. 'We'll lay in wait in the Forbidden Forest, let him walk right to us...' Harry abruptly trailed off as he realised Ginny's claim, a tiny smile forming on his face. 'And you did not think of it Gin, I did.'

'Hey, we're a team,' said Ginny with an undeterred shrug. 'If you think of something, I think of something, it's the way it works.'

'Yeah,' said Harry sarcastically. 'How comes it doesn't work the other way round then?

'It's just the way it is,' laughed Ginny. ' I don't make the rules, I just abide by them.

Harry snorted indignantly, stifling down a laugh. 'No you don't!' he claimed, sounding outraged. 'In fact, I can confidently say, you do the very opposite of abide by the rules. You actively seek way's to break them... You've practically invented four extra "Unforgivable curses" for a start.'

'I blame it on my brothers,' Ginny defended. 'It's Fred and George's fault, always breaking as many rules as they could. What sort of influence were they?'

'Well they never broke a rule that could land them a life time in Azkaban, that's for sure.'

'Well then I'm lucky it's no longer standing then, aren't I,' said Ginny, adding quickly, 'Getting back to Lucius, the question is: When?'

Harry had more then a sneaking suspicion she was just changing the subject because she'd lost the argument, something she often done when she was wrong. Though Harry had to admit, she was seldom wrong, and it was usually he who changed the subject. 'The answer is: Tonight!'

'Don't try and be a funny man, Harry. It doesn't suit you,' said Ginny with what could only be described as a look of distaste at Harry's mocking, which was then raised to a more serious "glare" as Harry shook with silent laughter. 'So, tonight?' Ginny gave a nod of approval, that night was fine by her. The sooner it started, the sooner it would be finished. 'Then we better prepare,' Ginny finished. She gave the house one final glance and began down the road that lead towards Hogsmead village centre. 'I'll make the final additions to the potion,' she informed Harry.

Harry registered Ginny's words, giving a silent nod though he was unsure whether she'd actually seen it, she was already walking back to Hogsmead. 'Always in a rush,' Harry though to himself. He stood rooted, still staring at the house where Lucius had been for the past ten minutes—which must have been the main room—until he heard Ginny yell, 'You coming, or what?'

~*~

Lucius Malfoy paced the house having nothing else to do apart from wait and of course repair the occasional broken window, stair or anything else that broke... which was actually a damn sight more then "occasional," full-time job would be a better way of putting it such was the state of the house. Lucius had been staying in Hogsmead for a few weeks now, watching Hermione Granger and the happenings at Hogwarts. It appeared the headmaster was acting as a go between from someone in the Ministry, that fool's—Arthur Weasley's—son, Ron Weasley, to the Resistance. Voldemort couldn't have that, not when he'd worked so hard to split the Dumbledore and the Ministry of Magic up. So he had provided Lucius with a most rare creature, and a most vicious one at that.

A loud tap on the front door made Lucius jump with a start. Though on the outside he seemed to be alert, on the inside he was deeply lost in thoughts. The sound of a fist hitting a shaky door boomed through the empty rooms and corridors of the vacant building once again, and Lucius glanced out the window as yet another knock came.

'Draco,' Lucius said out loud as he opened the door, with an obvious look of anger. His dull grey eye's seemed almost to come to life, twinkling with an edge of rage to them. 'What are you doing here? Are you so stupid as to come here now?'

'I was not followed, father-'

Lucius never waited for his son's explanation, grabbing him roughly by his cloack, he pulled Draco within the house, shutting the door quietly—despite his first instinct to slam it—behind them. 'I would hope not, Draco. I have taught you better then that. If you were followed, if you have alerted others of my being here, then Lord Voldemort would not be merciful to either of us.'

Lucius lead Draco to the main room, where a window opened out into the village of Hogsmead a few of the taller buildings—though not many—could be made out in the distance by the twinkling of their lights. Taking a seat in an old chair, Lucius placed his wand on a table beside him, his eye's fixed on his son as he waited for an explanatin.

'Lord Voldemort has sent me here,' said Draco looking dissaproovingly at the old house, his eyes flickering from the dust-ridden floor, to the crumbling walls, he snorted distastefully. 'You stay here, in this decrepid building? What is the family name coming to!'

'Don't speak out of line, Draco,' Lucius hissed. 'You are not yet big enough to do that. You will have respect when you address me...'

Draco flashed a quick look of defiance, but added, albeit it reluctantly, 'Of course father. I am sorry.' 

'As for this place, it is only for a matter of weeks at the most now. Once the Siren has claimed its victims, that Mudblood will be removed from her position as headmaster,' Lucius looked disgusted as he spoke of Hermione; he had more hatred for her then most other witches or wizards. Not only was she a Mudblood, which was bad enough in his opinion, but she was, or at least had been Harry Potter's friend, which for a Death Eater was regarded as a most hanous crime. 'The board of Govonors may tolerate a great many things, like that fool Dumbledore, or the Mudlblood, but dead students are one thing they will not tolerate. Then we shall have our reward, Draco. When Voldemort comes to power, we will have everything we want. Now tell me what Lord Voldemort has said?'

'He wishes to know if the Siren has claimed any lives yet, but I see it has not. You pomised students—and if we were lucky the Mudblood teacher—would die soon, but none have been reported in the Daily Prophet.'

'You believe the papers would be alerted?' said Lucius fiersly in response to Dracos challenging tone. 'No wonder—as I am ashamed to say—Mudbloods and Mudblood-lovers bettered you at Hogwarts, and ever since, Draco. Granger would want to keep it quite.'

'So there have been fatalities?'

'Not yet,' said Lucius, loosing his temper, his hands grippng the armchair. His voice trembled with rage as he spoke. 'Soon. Tell Lord Voldemort soon.'

A sudden cold filled the room, a blustery night wind perhaps, from what must be an open window somewhere in the house. It wouldn't have been the first time such a thing had happened during Lucius's stay, and he knew it wouldn't be the last. Witness to the force of the icy breeze that swept through the room, something that had been placed on a deacying mantlepiece was thrown to the floor, smashing loudly as it broke into a thousand pieces.

'Wait here I haven't finished yet,' Lucius warned as he got lazily to his feet. His face contorted into a look of disgust as he echoed Dracos own sentiments, 'This place is falling apart, another windowpane broken.'

'Here-' Draco shouted to the retreating form of his father. The blond haired man chucked something across the room at Lucius who instinctively brought his hand up to catch the wand. '-Unless you plan to toil with the window like a-' Draco couldn't help a mocking chcukle that escaped his mouth as he added, '-Muggle, I believe you'll need this-' With a superior grin, he added in, what was quite obviously a tone of mock respect, '-Father.'

After minutes of searching, Lucius could find nothing of the origin of the sudden cold that had filled the house which was now so bitterly cold, he was visibly shaking and his arms were alive with pimples. The final room was no different to the rest of them, just as cold and deserted, and not where the cold came from. With a curse, Lucius marched out of the room still having found not even a trace of where the cold came. Every window he'd checked was closed and sealed, many through magic having broken already since he'd been there.

'Nothing... Nothing whatsoever. Draco, return to Lord Vo...' Lucius's voice trailed off as he saw someone else in the room. 'Who are you?' he hissed. Stepping into the room, he heard the crunching sound of glass trodden underfoot, barley giving a second thought to the empty container he'd broken. Draco was no longer standing in the main room where he had minutes before. Instead, in his place, a shadowy figure of a man stood, gazing out the window into Hogsmead. The figure didn't make so much as a move even after Lucius demanded an explantaion again.

'Lucius,' said Harry, turning to face the man, and though he could see the look on Lucius' face, his own was still hidden from the other wizards view. 'As you can see, Draco is no longer here. He fled a coward... But that is of no concern to you. What does concern you, Lucius, is that the Order of Auror has come for you!'

Lucius's dull grey eye's narrowed, his nose flaring in anger and disgust as recognistion finally registered. His lips curled round over gritted teeth, he couldn't even begin to hide the hatred, or the fear he felt. 'Where is your little friend?' he said calmly, taking one step back towards the door.

'I don't need her for such a menial task as killing you, Lucius, count it as a blessing. I'm sure you've heard how good she is at what she does. The best in the world I would go so far as to say.'

In a second, Lucius was gone, his cloak billowing behind him as he fled the room. Survival instincts had taken over, overiding any such principles of honour or the shame of running for your life rather then duelling. He managed to dive behind the door just as a beam of light hit. The door exploded sending shards of wood into the air, several sharper pieces imbeding themselves in Lucius, but the adrenaline pumping through his body made him oblivious to such injuries. The door now stood missing a gapeing rough circle of a gap, and Lucius just had time to see his pursuer approaching (Lazily) through the space before he scrambled back to his feet and dashed up the stairs, thankful that the door had blocked the fatal curse.

'That's right,' shouted Harry a crazed laugh escaping his breath and echoing through the house. 'Run Lucius. Run from me. Run from the Order... Try to run,' Harry clapped loudly, still laughing manically, only stopping to speak. 'Know you cannot evade us for long. There is no running from death, there is no hiding from death, there is no cheating death, and there is no escaping death. Death has come for you, Lucius. I will have you!'

'That's what you think,' spat Lucius just as he Apparated from the top of the stairs. A second curse intended for him hit the wall behind causing the concrete to explode and send a cloud of chalky dust into the air.

*

'He's here,' said Ginny quietly pointing to a light beam that flew across the forest like a shooting star. 'In the forest... You were right!'

Harry didn't even look back, his eyes instead focused on scanning through the dark forest, hoping he would catch a glimpse of Lucius. 'You sure he can't Apparate out, Ginny?'

'Of course,' said Ginny sounding slightly hurt. Her voce became muffled as she pushed her way though a thick bushy plant that stood in her way. 'I'm hurt that you would even ask.'

'Now whose the one that needs to grow up, Ginny?' chuckled Harry as he cut through a low hanging branch. As soon as he cut one barrier though, another took it's place. It was becoming apparent that trying to cut a course through the forest was as useless as buying an owl that couldn't fly. 'It's no use, Gin,' he muttered. 'We're going to have to go round.'

'Is there time?' said Ginny, again looking at the light beam that was now almost out of sight. 'He's already here.'

'Should be,' said Harry, though he didn't sound as sure as he usually did. 'I hope.'

A long pause followed as the mood turned serious, minutes going by in silence, the only sounds the occasional hoot of an owl. The first target was there, in the forest. Soon enough, they would do what they always done. Only this might be the last time they had to do it, and that in itself was enough to spark butterfly's in both their stomachs. 

'Eve,' Harry called suddenly, making Ginny jump. 'Eve, come to me.'

The snowy white owl appeared from the high branch she had been perched on, gliding silently down, the owl landed on Harry's outstretched arm and nuzzled him affectionately. 

'Eve, I need you to take this-' Harry held out his other hand, letting the owl see the message she was to deliver. '-to Ron Weasley. Ron Weasley, got it?' The owl hooted, and Harry continued, 'Get to him as soon as possible, but don't let anyone see you. Good girl.' Harry tied the paper to the owl's leg, and the white-bird took of, almost dazzling with contrast in the dark forest.

'Will he understand it?' asked Ginny. 'Will he know whom it's from for that matter?' 

'Why wouldn't he?'

'You forgot to sign it,' said Ginny with a smirk. Though at that moment, she didn't feel to light-hearted she tried not to let it show.

Harry suddenly looked very stupid, his eyes looking to Ginny as if to say "Really?" or "Oops". What he said in the end though didn't resemble these words in the least. 'He'll work it out. And if he doesn't... no major loss.'

****

End chapter 6—Message Anonymous.

Authors notes: Sorry everyone for that chapter, it wasn't really a chapter at all, was it? I know, I know, it was crappy, but it will get better (I hope). What did everyone think of Draco? I've never written him before, did it show? What about the Draco/Lucius relatinship (Get your mind out the gutters), was it alright? I tried to make it not so much as a hate relationship, but more of a compedetive one.

Draco haters will love the next chapter... but Draco lovers will love others!

Can anyone put a few of the clues together yet? Did anyone find a few unanswered questions, or a few plot holes in that chapter? See if you can.

Oh, and it takes a darker tone in the coming chapters, so be warned... probably an R rated fic from here on in.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.


	7. The Darker Marks: Of Tricks and Beasts.

Dark Marks, Orders and Auror's chapter 7.

The Darker Marks: Of Tricks and Beasts.

By Chris

Summary: Harry and Ginny—feared Aurors—close in on their targets. Lucius Malfoy and Peter Pettrigrew are among the first to suffer the consequences of opposing the—dark—Order of Auror.

[CLICK HERE FOR CHAPTER 8][1]

Authors notes: This chapter is a very dark chapter. I've always maintained that this would be a darkfic. But for those of you concerned about this (Regina and No Reply) I just want to say: There are reasons for the things I do. Reasons for the apparent change in Harry. Keep reading and you'll find out the reasons. Trust me, I think you'll like the end... just ride the violence. Oh, and things are not as they seem either (Draco fans, hint-hint!)

Once again, I would like to thank Regina, Rhi, Raven of Death, No Reply, Person and Spitfyre. Your feedback is truly appreciated... You are all my gods... I devote shrines to you... wee little paper shrines.

Warning: Dark fic, rated R for violent situations.

Chapter 7

The Darker Marks: Of Tricks and Beasts.

Lucius Malfoy ran as fast as he could through the masses of trees that surrounded him. His breath rasp, and forced as each gulp of air he took felt like a razor sharp knife which had been thrust unceremoniously deep within his body, into the depths of his lungs. His heart pounded like a jackhammer, and thin layer of perspiration had spread across his usually smug looking face. His pale grey eye's stung as a blasting wind battered against them, his vision blurring as water filled his eye's.

The forest grew darker and more sinister looking with every passing second. The trees seem to grow closer and denser with every step he took, conspiring to slow him down. Gnarled tree roots stuck out of the ground at twisted, odd angles; sharp like ready to grasp talons. They seemed to grow with one purpose and one purpose only: To impale him when he fell. Many trees here bared the scars of werewolves; long and thin scratch marks decorated next to deep bite marks that only seemed to increase the feeling of danger that rose within him. It seemed this was the place he would have to take a stand, and all the signs of the forest around him seemed to signify that it would be he who came off worst. 

How Harry had followed him into the forest he didn't know, or in fact, care. Nor did he ponder why he hadn't been able to Apparate away from this place. All that ran across his mind was escape. He had to keep going, if he could make it out of the forest, then perhaps he could escape. He just had to keep running, he knew if he did, he'd escape. The forest may be too thick for him to use a broomstick, but that meant it was too thick for anyone else as well. He had the head start; all he had to do was keep running. 

With an angry yelp, his leg caught on a tree root that was hidden in the deep undergrowth—that for a moment felt deep enough to hide him—maybe he could stay there... 

No, it wasn't deep enough. As he hit the ground hard with a thud that seemed immensely loud for a fall broken by undergrowth he realised this. Reality came crashing down, shattering the small hope of sanctity there in the knots of plants. He knew if he stayed there too long he would be caught. Lucius scrambled to his feet, once again running on shaky legs, with the smell of blood fresh in the air. A smell that seemed to mix so readily with the already strong stench of damp and mould that infested every inch of the rotting segment within the forbidden forest.

'Luminos,' he whispered holding his wand out in front of him. The tip of his wand, responding to the spell, suddenly poured light into the area of eternally dark forest depths. With a gasp of fear he jumped back; the small glowing ball at the end of his wand had cast sinister looking shadows across the tree just meters in front of him. One of which looked remarkably like a twisted figure of the one he was trying to escape. The shadow watched him crash through the undergrowth in his futile attempt to escape.

Wiping a trail of blood that had run down the side of his face and begun to drip from the bottom of his chin with his sleeve, he made his way to a large clearing one hundred meters up ahead, in which the moon reflected strongly. The silvery light cast dancing shadows of swaying trees as the wind grew stronger. Heavy gales blew his cloak forcefully, and made it harder for him to run, the material whipping fiercely and tangling around a bush. It was becoming harder to keep going now, as his ripped cloak would bare testament to; he knew it would also be harder for his pursuer.

Finally he was clear of the forest, and in the large circular clearing that ran for fifty meters before it met another boarder of trees. Lucius finally realised he would never make it out of the forest. Despite the voice in his head screaming out for him to keep running, he forced himself to stop. He would take a stand thee, in the clearing. If he died running... The family name, Malfoy was more then that. Proud, cunning, devious; it was all these things, and more. He would not die running, with his back turned.

Behind him the crunching of twigs trodden underfoot, and the squelch of damp mud, made him turn with a start. 

...Crunch, crunch, CRUNCH...

...Squelch, squelch, SQUELCH... 

With each passing second the sounds grew louder.

Out of the woods, walking lazily—almost as though they were allowing Malfoy to make another dash for it, like it was a game—a figure of a person he knew only too well emerged. Lucius knew who it was, both from reports, and from his own past; he already knew only two other people in the world had such a presence about them. Only Albus Dumbledore and Voldemort himself commanded such attention with just their presence. 

Dressed in a loose fitting black robe, a large hood hung, hiding the person's face. The figure seemed to glide unnaturally towards him. The winds seemed to pass around him because his cloak didn't flap or billow in the least, yet a bush no more then a meter to his right was nearly blown over. Lucius Malfoy's thoughts immediately changed to the Dementors—which though were his master's natural ally, still inspired fear—and a fresh shudder ran it's way down his spine. The only way one would know this dark figure that approached wasn't a Dementor other then being a lot smaller then the vile hooded creatures was the steady squelch of mud beneath the figures feet; Dementors were as silent as Mer-people through water.

Gripping his wand tightly in his hand and concealing it behind his back, Lucius glanced from his pursuers hand and then to the other mans wand, which was snugly sat deep within his pocket. His eyes flashed again back to the mans hand, Lucius's calculating eye's narrowing, judging how long it would take for him to grab that wand and cast the fatal curse. His own hand clutched tighter still, his fingers grasping his wand so tightly he could feel the blood drain from them, his pale skin turning whiter still.

'Come now, Lucius,' said the other man, with a hint of amusement in his confident voice. He had long since stopped approaching, and had instead taken a stand but ten meters from where Lucius himself stood. It was of course, a typical duelling distance. 'We both know what I am! We both know that I don't need the wand, I keep it only out of habit.'

'I know what you are,' snapped Lucius, still watching the other mans wand. A look of disgust was reflected in the older mans drab grey eyes and didn't look about to leave. 'You will never defeat the dark lord.'

'Silence,' shouted the other man, fiercely; all hint of amusement gone from his voice. 'I am twice what Voldemort is, or could ever be. He has marked me since I was a baby, and yet I have survived to now. Now it is his turn to fear ME! Now I have him, and his followers marked. He will perish this very night.'

'H-How... how,' Lucius challenged, but his voice wavered. It took a few seconds for him to complete his sentence; such was the fear he felt. 'How do you intend to kill your better, Potter,' he finished wildly, looking around in panic for anything that would allow him to escape. Once again, his mind had changed to that of survival, screaming for him to escape. This was however, one of the few times his mind failed to find a way out. He had made his choice, he had chosen to stand. 

'Better?' said Harry with a chuckle. 'He who could not kill me as a baby? He who could not kill me as a first year, or a second year, or a fourth? I think not! By morning, I will have him begging at my feet!'

'You will never defeat Lord Voldemort,' said Lucius fiercely. His wand still grasped in the hand held behind his back. He was buying his time, from what he could gather Ginny was not here, that left it to a straight duel. If he cold wait until—if—Harry's attention was focused on something else, then he would escape. His time came sooner then he thought.

'I WILL,' shouted Harry, though a hint of doubt remained. For the slightest moment, Lucius Malfoy was sure a whisper of the same words came from somewhere behind him. He never got the chance to find out though, for at that same moment, seizing his chance, he extended his arm at Harry and shouted, '_Petrificus Totalus_.'

Simple, yet effective; a spell not as dangerous, but twice as fast as the fatal Avada Kedavra curse. A ball of green light was sent rocketing towards a shocked looking Harry, who barely had time to open his mouth before it struck. His entire body became rigid, and he collapsed to the floor unable to move even the tips of his fingers. His eyes moved around in their sockets, darting around nervously in an attempt to find Lucius. The moment he saw though, he wished he hadn't. Lucius was walking—stalking would better describe it—as a lion does a wounded zebra, towards Harry. And Harry was completely powerless to stop it happening. He opened his lips to say something, choking though the gritted teeth, 'Don't... please don't.'

With a hearty chuckle, Lucius Malfoy made his way over to the fallen wizard, whose hood had fallen down around his face, allowing Lucius to finally gaze upon the scar that marked the Harry's forehead. Partly hidden by matted, scruffy hair, it was nonetheless easily recognisable as a lightning bolt. The only mark or sign that bared witness to Harry's first defeat of the dark Lord Voldemort. Harry had a rare look of fear that had fought it's way to the surface, despite the Petrificus Totalus spell that had froze him solid.

'So, this is the great Harry Potter,' said Lucius Malfoy with a look of twisted joy. 'I wonder should I take you to Lord Voldemort, or kill you here?' 

Now standing over Harry, Lucius ran his wand down first across Harry's forehead, tracing the shape of the scar, and then down the side of his face. Using the wand to hook Harry's chin, he forced the Auror to look him in the eye. 'Tell me, Harry. Tell me, how did you expect to kill Lord Voldemort when you can't even finish me? I will do you a favour, finish you here. What do you say, I'll kill you now, and save you from facing the Dark Lord. I can offer no fairer then that.'

'Don't,' Harry coughed out, his eye's wide and scared looking, almost like that of a trapped animal.

'Goodbye Potter...'

A glint in Lucius's eyes distinctly reflected his victory, waving his wand wildly in the air, he yelled, '_Avada Kedavra_.' 

Harry felt the beam touch him, the pain that engulfed his own body was beyond describable... Burning. Burning from the inside out, a white hot fire ripped through him, beginning at his forehead, where the spell had hit it spread quickly to the rest of him. From the very tips of his toes, to his insides, nothing went without the burning touch of pain. The pain was complete and unbearable, but lasted just a second. His whole body, every muscle within him—despite the Petrificus Totalus spell—shook violently, such was the intensity of the spell. With a scream of pain and defeat, he slumped still on the cold damp ground!

A loud clapping carried from the other end of the clearing broke the silence that had filled the air after Malfoy's victory. Turning violently, almost as violent as Harry's dying convulsion, Lucius got a glimpse of someone standing at the edge of the wood... but it couldn't be. It couldn't be, but somehow it was, Lucius felt his blood run cold as a cold hateful voice addressed him.

'Very good, Lucius!'

Harry Potter grinned sardonically, his usual vivid-green eye's now jet black and almost maniacal in their stare. It was the look that so many dark wizards feared, that which so many good wizards for that matter, feared. The lightning scar stood out clear as day beneath his dark matted hair, it's symbol, no longer representing 'the-boy-who-lived' or the defeat of Voldemort. It now stood for torture, pain... and death. It now epitomised the Order of Auror during its golden, and most feared years.

Wide eyed, and confused, Lucius didn't have time to think, he pointed his wand at Harry and shouted, 'Avada Ke-' His wand flew from his hand, impaling itself in the mud a few feet away. Looking down at the wand, and quickly back at Harry, he knew death was imminent.

'Go ahead,' said Harry, grinning from ear to ear as though it were a fun game of wizard-chess. 'I bet you don't reach it.'

Lucius looked from Harry—who flicked his hand lazily—and back to the wand... or at least where the wand had been before. Now it was some 10 feet further out of reach, laying flat on the floor next to a petrified looking rat. The disgusting creature stood on two hind legs almost frozen with a Petrificus spell, except, as Lucius could see, it quivered with fear.

'Well would you look at that,' said Harry looking at the wand without noticing the rat. 'It just... moved.'

'Now, now, Harry-' came a second voice, that though Malfoy didn't recognise per say, knew who it must belonged to. Just as spiteful and cold, the woman's voice had a chilling aura to it, which despite the words she said promised pain. From the forest, just as Harry had appeared as from nowhere, a woman—dressed in similar black hooded garments—emerged. Her hood hung loosely around her shoulders, allowing Lucius to catch a glimpse of her mid-length flaming red hair that hung loosely around her unmarked face. This wasn't the most noticeable feature though, a wicked, malevolent grin drew Lucius's attention immediately; his eye's then fell on the woman's livid eye's that held his glance leaving him unable to break contact. '-that wasn't very nice, was it? I keep telling you, you shouldn't play with our victims... At least, not until I'm here!'

'As always, Ginny,' said Harry graciously, 'you are a voice of reason... I'll tell you what,' he said, looking back at Malfoy, no more games. Here have your wand-' 

Sure enough, the wand flew into view and hovered mid air in front of Lucius, almost temptingly close. The wizard though made not so much as an attempt to take it. 

'What's the matter, Lucius?' said Harry viciously, turning to face Ginny, but keeping one eye trained always on Lucius. 'Ginny, I'm sure Lucius here likes to play games, does he not?'

'Well, he used to,' said Ginny with a smirk. 'I can remember a game he started with a diary and a Basilisk... He liked playing then.'

'I think I recall it,' said Harry vaguely. 'Yes, that was kind of fun... Don't think Ginny appreciated nearly being killed though, Lucius! Nor being used!' he said pointedly. 'I must ask, Malfoy, where has all your spirit gone?'

'You'll die soon enough, Potter. Your little girlfriend too. If not my hand then by another's... You'll never stop us!'

Taking a large golden watch from his pocket, Harry watched the hands move around. 'It doesn't matter,' he announced, ignoring Lucius's outburst. 'I'm sure we'll find something to make him more obliging! In three... two... one...'

Harry took in a large breath of air, and sighed appreciatively as if smelling from a rose in summer's bloom. 'Smell that, Lucius? Death! I love the smell of a fallen dark wizard, don't you?' His eye's glanced at something over Lucius's shoulder, a genuine grin—that was a little to dark for Lucius's liking—forming across Harry's face.

'Like a lamb to the slaughter,' said Ginny. 'Ironic when out first target does our work for us.'

'Though he never was a target,' Harry reminded.

'Fun nonetheless.'

With a growing feeling of dread in his stomach, Lucius turned around, swivelling his head to see what Harry and Ginny were talking about. What he saw, made him almost physically sick, the taste of bile fresh in his mouth. The still figure killed by Lucius's own hand that had been Harry just minutes before, changed. Before his very eye's, the dark matted hair grew lighter, skin tone changed quickly, and the lightning-bolt shaped scar was gone. Now lying in the clearing, rigid and pale was his own son. 

'Very easy to control, really, was Draco,' spat Harry. 'Quite pathetic really... and then, you know the rest. You killed your own son, did you hear him begging you not to? Such is the use of Polyjuice potion.'

In a fit of anger, Lucius grabbed the wand that still hung mid air in front of him, and screamed in a strangled sob, 'Avada Keda-'

Almost as though he were hit by the Hogwarts express, Lucius was sent hurtling through the air, hitting the ground with such force his leg shattered with an audible crunch.

'That's the spirit,' said Harry excitedly. 'Now we can have some fun... Ginny has a new spell she wants to try out. I'm sure she would appreciate it greatly if you volunteered to be a dummy-'

Lucius Malfoy just stared, a pale look of pure hatred on his face, he spat venomously, 'Never.'

Harry sighed, 'I thought we were past the "refusal to cooperate" stage? Very well, perhaps if you knew a little more about it. The spell is, well it's going to be an alternative to the "_Crucio_" spell_-'_

No sooner had the words left Harry's mouth did the grounded Lucius double up in pain, shouting out in anger as the torture spell engulfed him with such intensity, it made his shattered leg feel as though it were a pleasurable experience next to the pain that overthrew his body at that very moment.

'Oh, I'm so sorry,' Harry laughed maliciously. 'I sometimes forget the power I have... Have to be careful what I say. I meant the Cruciatus spell... Now what was I saying, ah yes... Will you help us? _Imperio-_'

Lucius suddenly found all pain from his leg and what remained from the aftermaths of the Cruciatus curse, gone completely. All thoughts vanished from his mind, and he felt entirely at peace. Every worry in his body seemed to evaporate like a mourning mist in the early suns beams. It was bliss, to not have to think... to not have to worry... to just pass all the decisions onto someone else...

'..._Yes... say yes... Say yes, and the pain will be gone forever... Just say yes,'_ A voice demanded in his head. It was the voice that chased away the pain and the torment, which banished the confusion and misery; it offered peace.

'No. No, don't-' came a smaller voice in the back of his mind; it was getting weaker. Weaker as it brought with it hazy images of the harsh reality outside. It brought with it pain, and suffering, and the torment by captures. It reminded him of what he'd done, how he'd killed his own son. His very own child. Lucius may not have shared a close relationship with his Draco, but he was his son none the less. He had killed him. 

'...You want the pain to be gone, say yes..._ SAY YES... SAY YES NOW!' _the first voice screamed.

'Yes,' said Lucius in a hoarse whisper.

'Very good,' said Harry. 'That wasn't so hard, was it? Ginny, if you would do the honours... Oh, and Lucius, feel free to scream out loud!'

Ginny pulled out her wand, waving it in the air almost as though conducting an orchestra. The magical instrument followed a complicated path, the concentration on Ginny's face all to evident. The woman bit her bottom lip, and the tips of her ears, as happened to all the Weasley's, became gone red. '_Trans-irio-excalibus Skrewt,_' she said after the conduction had come to an end. 

From the end of her wand came a whisper of thin smoky light, almost colourless, almost unseen in the darkness. The wand continued to dance in the air, and once again, Ginny said the words. Each time a wisp of green smoke left the wand, joining the remnants of the other spells, it became ever more thickly, ever more dense. The ball of smoke could now be made out, emitting it's own glow as it hung just above the wand, it was now a thick green colour, almost like that you would expect to see in a Muggles stereotypical witches cauldron. As one more flicker of smoke joined the rest, it seemed to become saturated, no more smoke could join the rest, it was as close to solid as possible. Needing no more prompting, the smoke suddenly burst with a new colour, the green became deep shades of reds mixed with shadowy blacks. The spell had obviously worked; the smoke began to waft slowly towards Lucius. It slowly, slowly crossed the gap between the red haired witch, and the grounded wizard, almost as though it were not worried with time, it circled at a lazy pace. Every time it circled it closed in, like a dark red hurricane with Lucius standing in the eye of the storm, the gap became smaller, until it touched... 

Lucius let out a scream of tortured pain as he felt his insides writhe about, not just moving, but completely rearranging themselves. It felt as if his guts had been torn from his living body, a hand plunging deep within him, and pulling the organ out whole, discarding the rest of his innards with contempt. If it weren't so painful, it would have been nauseating. Disconcerting and confusing it would have felt completely different, he would have felt different; but all he felt was pain... And then... And then, burning. From inside, when he had thought the pain had reached a peak, it was more. White-hot fiery heat from deep, it was noticeably affected the surroundings, the air itself growing hot. If Lucius had been crouching above a puddle, it surely would have evaporated. It was unbearable; all he could do not break down was to grasp deep within the ground. Mud slipped between his fingers as his whole body grew tense, every muscle in his body tightening. A silent choked scream escaped, not even beginning to describe the torture. With the silent screams came blood, choking out the thick red liquid, it began to decorate the surroundings, reds now dominating the ground that had been a mix of browns and greens before.

'Most unexpected, Ginny,' said Harry thoughtfully. 'Is he supposed to be coughing up all that blood?'

'Not really,' said Ginny with an unconcerned shrug. 

'What happened?'

'The spell was just supposed to transfigure his liver into a blast-ended Skrewt... The blood's just an unexpected bonus. As a whole, I think it went well,' said Ginny with a smile though a frown quickly followed. 'Well, except the delivery, it was a bit slow for my liking. I'll have to work on that, much too slow... You want him back?'

'Please, if you would Gin.'

'_Nor-excalibus_,' said Ginny shooting a beam of dark red light at the convulsing wizard. Almost immediately—the cure spell obviously a lot faster on the delievery then the actual curse—Lucius stopped screaming. He stopped doing anything for that matter, apart from to lie still on the cold, bloody ground.

'No, no, no,' said Harry shaking his head. In four strides, he towered over the still for of Lucius. 'This will not do-' Holding his hand over the man he muttered, '_Enervate_.'

Lucius sat bolt up, for a moment unsure of where he was; it was as his mind were shrouded in mist... A dark red-black mist that circled like vultures around him... The thought sent shudders down his spine. The only thing he knew for certain was the pain was almost beyond belief. His leg, his insides... all screamed out.

'Oh, good, your back,' said Harry happily. 

More memory's came flooding back to Lucius, each as bad as the next. Running for his life... Killing his son, his own son... The spell... the pain. It was too much; Lucius barely reacted to Harry's voice, the memories alone were enough to fill him with dread and fear.

'I'm afraid, as fun as this had been,' said Harry darkly. 'It must end. I have other's whom are in need of my attention... as we speak, Peter Pettrigrew—I'm sure—is on his was to inform Voldemort of your and Draco's unfortunate deaths. He will be next of course...' A pause followed as Harry seemed to be think; debating whether or not to speak. 'Do you wish to know what sign your death shall be marked with?' Without waiting for an answer, Harry said, 'The trickery mark... You, were foolish enough to buy my decoy. You, like your son before you, were stupid enough to walk straight into the trap.' Then drawing his wand he leant forward lowering his voice to a whisper he added, 'I like to use my wand for this spell, it feels so much more... rewarding that way. I'm sure you can appreciate that...' Drawing back so Ginny could once again hear he shouted fiercely, '_Avada Kedavra_.'

Lucius's body fell limp, laying in an almost identical fashion to the body of his son except his face and body was decorated with blood, it had been a lot more vicious then Draco's own death. He gladly let the darkness take him, thankful that it was now, at least, in death, over.

'_Hegiostious Trick_,' shouted Harry and Ginny together. From the end of their wands, two blood red lines of light met in a collisions midway between them, just above Lucius's limp body. In an explosion of more colours, a cloud floated into the air, growing steadily larger, fed from the streams of light from the two wands until towered at least fifty feet wide and fifty feet tall, hanging almost a hundred feet in the air. 

There in blood red for the entire world to see was a picture of three people: One stood facing another, wand drawn and ready to kill; while the other figure—who was marked with a lightning bolt—stood unnoticed behind the first, with a wand pointed, ready to finish target.

'The trick sign... one of my favourites,' beamed Harry. 'I think it's time to pay Wormtail a visit.'

Ginny followed with a bounce in her step. 'The beast mark!'

With a nod of agreement, Harry continued. 'I think so. I think the beast mark is very appropriate for dear Wormtail.'

~*~

Over the commotion, a pale winged Crow flew above the village tops, almost invisible in the night sky, the only way anyone would see it was the glitter of dull red; that which reflected from the sky above. Landing across the street from the potion shop, it perched, sat atop a particularly tall building. It's pale grey eye's—that appeared almost dead in the darkness watched dully—stood atop a crooked pale yellow beak, which almost curled into a sneer. Cawing angrily, it jumped with noticeable aggression as it impatiently waited and waited for it's opening. Soon enough, the door across the street opened warily; bright light cast out onto the cobblestone in the street below. 

And old hag stepped out timidly, casting her shadow as her body cut out the light from inside. Seeing the mark above seemed to give the woman the encouragement she needed, she took one tentative step at a time and soon found herself watching, transfixed, the red figures above, as people passed all around her shouting and whispering excitedly.

'It's the Mark of Trickery,' a young Wizard with mid-length blond hair exclaimed to his group of friends, straightening his cloak with a look of importance. 'Most viscous, I believe.'

'Not that they don't deserve it, mind,' added a second wizard. 'The Ministry should let Potter-' A few of the Wizards in the group shuddered at the name. '-and You-Know-Who finish each other off. That's what I think... 'Course, they won't be doing that now they know where he is, the Ministry Taskforce should be there already.'

One witch dressed in green—that seemed to be almost black in the night—shook her head disapprovingly. 'The Ministry's spending too many resources on catching Harry Po... Pott... The Two. Should concentrate on one problem at a time.'

'Oh great Merlin... Look,' said a fourth person in the group—this time a short witch—pointing wildly into the air with her wand. A look of horror on her face. 'Look, a second mark... it's "the innocent".'

'That means-' choked the second wizard again.

'An innocent Wizard has been killed in taking down one of the targets,' answered the first wizard who obviously fancied himself as a bit of an expert on the matter. 'One of the seven rules of the Order: Let nothing stop you in your pursuit, but death itself... even killing innocent wizards and witches.'

'Should kill the whole Order after they finish off you-know-who-' said the third. And a murmur of support erupted from the rest.

As that particular group's voice trailed off, fading into the distance, another soon replaced them. The square, which had been borderline deserted since the deaths of the Longbottom's, was now as busy as one would expect in the weeks before the start of Hogwarts school term. The Crow watched everyone pass, each person having a strong opinion on the matter, whether it be that they should stop Potter, or concentrate on Voldemort, each passing person seemed as vocal on the matter as the next. The black bird looked across the square from it's perch to see that the old Hag had joined a group of witches at the end of the street and was frantically telling them exactly whom she thought the first target was. 

Opening its huge wings, the crow hoped off its perch, and silently glided to the open house below. With a bounce in it's step, it slipped through the gap, and was in the house, it's nostrils filling with the pungent thick aroma of skunk-root powder, fish peel, and liverwort, and various other countless ingredients that were sold within the shop.

*

Harry walked calmly through the woods, his eye' narrowed, and ears pricked for any sign of Wormtail. His hood, which usually covered his face, now hung around his shoulders so as not to interfere with his senses. Ginny Weasley done the same and the two stepped carefully between roots, so as not to trip and make any extra noise.

'I think he went the other way,' whispered Ginny.

'No,' said Harry just as quietly, shaking his head. 'He's around here. He had time to get back to warn Voldemort.'

'And?' asked Ginny, raising her voice a little.

'If I know Voldemort,' said Harry, an intense look of concentration on his face, 'he would have sent Wormtail back to watch us. He'll be where we are. He's around here... somewhere'

In the distance, above the sound of swaying branches, and rustling leaves, just an echo above the howl of the wind as it swept through the forest, Harry was sure he heard talking. He couldn't have just been imagining it either, as Ginny had stopped still, and was holding her breath, looking to where Harry had heard the sound.

'We haven't got much time,' she said, her eye's narrowed as she continued to listen for signs of voices, or of a scattering rat. 'The Ministry's Special Taskforce is on its way.'

'Alright...' said Harry, trailing of as he thought. 'Alright, we know the Taskforce won't be here until we find Peter, so don't worry about that. Now how do you flush out a rat?'

'I would think that was clear,' said Ginny, pulling her wand out and aiming it at a large rock that lay at the base of a tree. A spell shot from the end of her wand, and struck. Harry watched quietly, eager to see what Ginny was thinking. First, the rock changed colour, the dark, dirty black grew lighter, and lighter, becoming more of a chalk grey. The slime that had covered it grew quickly, taking on an almost fluffy texture until it became recognisable as fur. With a jerk, the rock moved slightly... and then again. Small limbs that only grew larger as the seconds went by propelled the cat along.

'Ginny,' Harry said lightly. 'What would I do without you?'

'Thank me when it flushes out Wormtail,' said Ginny, 'and not a forest vole... I'm not even sure it'll do anything at all other then sit there. It is just a rock after all.'

All became silent, both Ginny and Harry standing deadly still, as the cat, with predatory grace crept through the undergrowth. It was nature at it's most fundamental, predator-prey relationships. The cat's ears twitched slightly as it heard something dart through the undergrowth. Though neither Harry nor Ginny could pinpoint the rodent, the cat was perfectly adept at tracking it. Twisting mid air, with grace that was unrivalled, it pounced at a pile of leaves, just missing. A small brown rat darted into the open before the cat could turn. _Crack._

A beam of dull red light escaped Ginny's and wand narrowly missed the rodent, instead hitting the bare ground sending a shower of mud and rocks into the air. Attempts at hitting it with spells were futile; the rat was too small, and far too fast. The rodent was just seconds from more cover, thick and twisted roots that grew from a heavily scarred, almost upturned tree offered the greatest sanctity...

In a flash of white, with sequels, and shrieks of protest, the rat was stopped in it's tracks, the snowy owl having returned from it's mission gripping the frantic rat between it's sharp claws.

'Good girl, Eve,' said Harry, as the owl dropped the rat in his outstretched hand. Swooping in, it landed gracefully on his shoulder, and in much the same way as its mother before it, nuzzled Harry's ear affectionately. The owl watched the rat continue to struggle with greedy eye's, hopping with anticipation of a free meal, it didn't go un-rewarded; it just wasn't the reward it had hoped for. 

Ginny took the owl from Harry's shoulder, and fed it a few treats. 'Did you find him?' she asked the owl quietly, whilst Harry changed the rat into it's true form. The owl hooted, in what must have been it's version of 'Yes,' and closed it's eye's as Ginny stroked it's head in just the right place. 'Good! Now go back to where we were staying and wait for us.'

The owl looked slightly annoyed when Ginny stopped petting it, but done as it was told. It gave and angry hoot and flashed it's sharp claws as it flapped past a very frightened looking short, bald man.

'Now Wormtail, I believe we have some business to attend to,' said Harry, his face hidden beneath the hood once again.

It was fear. Knowing who was under the hood, but not being able to see, and not knowing for sure, inspired fear in even the hardiest of wizards and witches. It was a method that Harry and Ginny had built up for years. Everything they had done was designed to bring fear to Dark Wizards. From the Marks they sent up which mimicked Voldemort's own, to the clothes they wore which were not unlike those of the Dementors, it never failed to inspire terror. Even simple spells that deflected wind or rain could be used to great effect... anything that painted an even more supernatural picture.

'No, please. I'll... I'll do anything,' Wormtail begged, pathetically. Kneeling on the floor, his cloak drenched in thick dirty water and even thicker mud. His watery eye's seemed to be even more pronounced then usual, pupils swelling enormously in a look of unmistakable fear. His mouth opened and closed several times, and his eye's twitched.

'Don't do what?' said a voice from beneath the shadow that was rife under the hood. The bald man just gaped in fear, a low-pitched whimper escaping his throat. The two hooded figures, Ginny and Harry, circled the grovelling man, a spiteful edge to their voices whenever the spoke.

'We asked you, DON'T DO WHAT?' said Ginny in a tone that none of her family would have recognised as her own. 

'Don't make us ask you again, Peter,' said Harry calmly.

'Please! Please, don't kill me,' whimpered Wormtail, his voice no more then a whisper, that was drowned out by sobs. He crawled around on his hands and knees, barely registering the pain as the twigs and rocks cut into his legs. Instead, he focused on keeping the two in view as they circled him. More mud covered his garments, splattering his face as he slipped, loosing his grip on the floor, and fell completely on his front. Not even realising how drenched he was, he scrambled back to his knees.

'Not kill you?' chuckled Harry, a laugh that was full of malice. 'Why shouldn't we?'

The mans ears picked up, moving, as a rats would when it heard a threat, ready to scatter away like he had done so many times before. But this time, there was nowhere to run. 'Because...' he stuttered, racking his mind for an answer, his voice panicked and rasp. 'Because, we... we have a bond, Harry! Remember the bond? You, you saved me, and...'

'You'll have to do better then that, Wormtail,' said Harry. For the first time since finding, the pathetic excuse for a wizard, he let his hood fall around his shoulders. The sight made the bald man flinch with fear as his eye's focused on the lightning shaped scar on Harry's forehead. Wormtail Whimpered on the floor as the meaning of Harry's words registered. The way he had let Wormtail see his face; it surely meant death.

Turning clumsily to the other person instead, more mud clinging to him in an almost ironic representation of himself, his watery eye's met the woman's. 'Please,' he begged. 'I can tell you where to find You-Know-Who. Please don't kill me, Ginny isn't it? Ginny Weasley, the famous Ginny Weasley... The powerful witch Auror... Please don't kill me.'

The two figures in black met gazes, and nodded in agreement. For a second, Wormtail though he was saved, that they were nodding for him to tell them where Voldemort was. It wasn't though.

'We don't need you to tell us, Peter. We could _take_ the information from you whenever we want,' said Harry, clenching his hand into a fist to emphasis 'take'. Pausing thoughtfully, his eye's bored holes in the mud-covered man on the floor. 'You don't honestly believe you could keep the information from us if we wanted it, do you? We have way's to make you talk. The hardiest Dark Wizard I've met for a long time barely lasted a day with Ginny, you wouldn't last a minute-' Harry stopped circling Wormtail, pausing to think. 'Nonetheless, you did once save us from Voldemort, did you not? If it wasn't for our bond, he would have finished us off the last time we met, back when Ginny and I were just learning of our powers.'

Looking wildly at the two people before him, Wormtail's whimpers died down, as hope filled him. Crawling nearer to the man so he could almost touch him. 'Yes, yes, you remember,' he said pleadingly, 'I saved you, you remember? I saved you both...'

'Don't come any closer, filth,' Harry spat, knocking Wormtail back to the floor, the short man landing on his back, with but a wave of Harry's hand. 'I remember you saved us. You saved us by _accident_.'

'No,' the other man gasped, his lower lip quivering. 'No it wasn't, it wasn't...'

'You were trying to kill me,' said Harry, and then looking to Ginny, added, 'Trying to kill us.'

'No... No, please,' begged Wormtail, standing up on shaky feet, water that saturated his cloak dribbled to the floor. He held his hands out, open palmed, in an imploring way. 'Please. Please, I saved you. I saved you... Please, there has to be a bond, please.'

'There might be a bond, Wormtail.' Opening his hand so his palm pointed downwards a jagged rock flew into his grasp, so sharp in some places it drew blood. Harry squeezed it tight, and just as with the cat, the rock transfigured only this time into another inanimate object. The sharp edge of the rock becoming extra pronounced as it melted into a knife.

Wormtail flinched at the sight, of the weapon. It's handle was charcoal black, almost as dark as Harry's eye's, the tip shinny and unused was diamond sharp, the wavy edge of the blade meeting in an evil looking point at the very end. 

'Wormtail, what's wrong? Don't you trust me? I though surely, if there was a bond you would trust me,' said Harry darkly.

'There can't be a bond. If there was, he would trust you,' reiterated Ginny. 'In that case, we should finish him before the Taskforce arrives.'

'I... I trust you,' Wormtail stuttered, looking evermore fearful and nervous. 'Please... I trust you.'

The short man lowered his hands slowly; his eye's never leaving the knife, until it was thrown to him, landing at his feet. Wormtail didn't dare make a move for it.

'Pick it up, Peter,' Ginny ordered.

Looking at Ginny, and back to Harry, Wormtail's eye's darted wildly. He leant down and with a great deal of apprehension picked the knife up. Holding the blade in his hand, it felt cold, and uncomfortable, not at all like a wand. Wormtail knew, however, if used properly, it was every bit as deadly as a wand. 'Wh-What do I do?'

'Do you renounce Voldemort?' asked Ginny, a look of loathing that matched Harry's at the mention of Voldemort, but no fear whatsoever, just hatred. Blind hatred. 'Do you renounce his way's?'

'Yes,' squeaked Wormtail, his voice sounding so much like the rat he could become. 'Yes, I do, I do... Please, don't kill me.'

'Then get rid of the Mark, Wormtail,' said Harry.

'What,' said Wormtail shrilly, hoping he'd got the wrong end of the stick. His eye's darted from the knife to his arm where a small dull black skull—the Dark Mark—was tattooed onto his skin.

'Cut it off,' said Ginny gleefully. With a crunch of undergrowth, she took a threatening step towards him, an action that was matched by Harry. 'All of it. Cut to the bone, Wormtail.'

Wormtail stared at his arm, seemingly petrified as by a Basilisk. He held the knife in a shaky grip, his watery eye's almost pleading with Harry to stop, but his expression, his silent pleas fell on deaths door. If he didn't cut off the Dark Mark, he would die.

'Wormtail, cut it off,' warned Harry. 'Ginny here can make the pain so much more.' He glanced to the red headed woman with a flicker of a grin. 'How someone so beautiful can cause so much pain is beyond me.'

'It's a gift,' said Ginny flippantly, a similar grin to Harry's flashing across her face, accompanied by a slight blush that was barely recognisable. The redhead then looked daggers at Wormtail, her lips curled in an evil looking smile that sent shivers up the short mans spine. Pulling out a wand, she began to wave it loosely in the air, in what Wormtail immediately recognised as the spell he'd seen her use—with great effect—on Lucius. Green smoke that swept almost like a serpent from the end of her wand began to fill the air, and, soon enough as red-black cloud would surround him, and then... He knew it would be pain.

'Wait,' he whimpered, bringing his hands up to shield himself as he had done minutes earlier with the knife. His watery eye's and pointed nose made him look as pathetic a person as Ginny had ever seen. 'I'll do it... Don't use that spell on me.'

His grip tightened and loosened on the handle as he tried to find the way to best cut the Mark from his arm. There was no way to best butcher yourself, Wormtail soon realised, no way to begin even. Self-preservation is such a strong emotion, but in that moment, it was overshadowed—a very rare occurrence—by terror. With rasp, forced breaths, he brought the knife to his upper wrist, the cool steel pressed against his sweat, and mud covered skin sending further shivers up his spine. A gust of wind swept through the forest, and Wormtail couldn't help but feel the cold even more now. The shivers that continuously ran up and down his spine soon became shudders that swept the whole of his body. Shivering violently, his muscles fought to keep him warm to no effect. Wormtail closed his eye's—watery tears falling from the ducts and down the side of his face as he done so—as he pressed the knife into his skin, moaning in pain through gritted teeeth. The knife didn't need much pressure, the razor sharp blade gliding easily through Wormtail's skin. A flooding warm sensation covered his arm, burning almost, the feeling was accompanied by pain so great the whole of his arm arm convulsed. Slowly, the sticky burning liquid ran a path up his quivering arm to his cleched fist, as gasps of pain echoed through his body.

As the knife finished it's journey, Wormtail opened his eyes, but all he could see was the mass of blood-red liquid that soaked both arms, and mixed with the dirt and mud on his cloak. 'I done it,' Wormtail sobbed, dropping the knife to the floor—where it transfigured back into a rock—before slumping to the ground himself, dissey through loss of blood.

'Now,' announced Harry, watching the shaking wreck of Wormtail with a hint of pity. But the thoughts of who he was, and what he'd done, overwhelemed any such thoughts. This was the man that had sold his parents out. That had framed Harry's godfather, sending him to Azkaban with the Dementors. 'Do exactly what I tell you, Wormtail, and you _might_ live. Don't, and that pain is only the start.'

Wormtail just nodded, still clenching his right arm to stop more blood pouring out.

'The Mark was your link to Voldemort,' said Harry, 'was it not? A nod will surfice.'

The balding man nodded his head in small motions, his face contouring violently as he let out a cry of pain.

'Good.' Harry's plan was finally coming together now that he had killed Voldemort's link to his Anchor. He wasn't as powerful as he had been minutes earlier. But, as Harry knew, Voldemort was still very dangerous. There was a reason he was the most feared wizard in history, and quite possibly, the greatest. In fact, loosing his link to Wormtail might not affect him at all. Harry knew the dark wizard preferred to use his wand whenever he could, and to great effect as the list of the deceased by his own hand bared witness too. 'Where is Voldemort?'

'In a deserted house, the other side of the country,' said Wormtail. Looking all around, as if half expecting his master to jump out from the shadows, he lowered his voice to a whispered. 'The house he grew up in.'

'Riddle mansion?' said Ginny.

Harry nodded, 'The one, and the same.'

Looking back at Wormtail, Harry pulled out a small vile of red liquid that looked like blood. It had the same, thick texture, as blood, the only difference being the vile of liquid bubbled and frothed in it's confines. 'Drink this. Drink it, and the pain will go away,' said Ginny.

'Please,' gasped Wormtail, his eye's bulging from their sockets. 'You said... You said you wouldn't kill me.'

'It's not _that_, Wormtail,' spat Harry. 'NOW DRINK!'

The short bald man poured the red liquid down his throat, choking slightly as it bubbled and frothed violently. He could feel it travel it's way into his body, the hot, bubbling liquid filling his blood stream, journeying to his arm. With an involuntary jerk of his arm, the gaping wound closed before his very eyes. The wound narrowed to nothing but a small red line, a scar that was the only relic to his history as a Death Eater. As the blood and the wound went, so too did the pain... If it were poison, then at least it was a painless one. 'Th-Thank-you,' he blubbered miserably.

Listening carefully, Harry waited until he heard a howl in the distance, before addressing Wormtail. 'What you just drunk, was healing potion. Healing potion mixed with a most potent Werewolf attractant.' Wormtail spun around wildly, and with great alarm, looking left and right as howls that carried on the wind from all parts of the forest grew louder and closer.

'Within minutes, every Werewolf for miles around, will be here. Your blood-' said Harry looking at Wormtail's blood soaked clothes. 

'Your blood will drive them into feeding frenzies like you've never seen before,' finished Ginny.

'But you...' Wormtail began feebly, but couldn't finish, instead, something made him spin around wildly. Trees in the distance were knocked about. Bushes rustled and twigs snapped in all directions. Dark hairy shadows darted about as if circling a perimeter. There were tens of them dozens even. Dozens of werewolves. He could hear them all, but he couldn't see them; as soon as he caught a flash of claws, or a feral growl, they were gone again.

'Here,' said Harry, throwing Wormtail a wand, which the shorter man clumsily caught. Seeing Wormtail look at it with great confusion, Harry explained, 'To defend yourself with, Peter. If you use it, you might live. If you change, you'll be caught for sure.'

'Don't leave me to them, Harry,' said Wormtail in almost a sequel, collapsing at Harry's robes. Another shadow of a beast scurried past disappearing into the night. They were waiting. Waiting until he was alone.

'Run!' said Harry pushing Wormtail away. 'Run, Wormtail, run!'

Swallowing a lump in his throat, Wormtail darted as fast as he could, stumbling through the undergrowth, not once looking back. A pack of werewolves gave chase behind, fast gaining ground. A sea of vicious growls, and snapping jaws accompanied the music of the snapping twigs. Wormtail could almost feel their hot breath on his neck as he dashed through the trees.

Harry and Ginny turned and walked the other way, hearing Wormtail's screams of pain soon after.

'I though he would have lasted longer then that,' said Harry with a shrug. 'You were right. Looks like I owe you, Gin.'

Pulling out his own wand, he and Ginny sent up a blood red cloud. The cloud floated lazily into the air, growing ever larger, it would soon be big enough for everyone at Hogsmead—some twelve miles away—to see. The picture of a beast not unlike a werewolf—that with the blood-red colour of the cloud from which it was made, looked as if it had torn something to pieces—hung proudly in the air for all to see: it was the Beast Mark. Just as when the Trickery mark had hung hours before, Hogsmead came alive with hustle and bustle.

****

End chapter 7—The Darker Marks: Of Tricks and Beasts.

Well, just two more chapters now people... But they are big, so don't worry.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

   [1]: http://www.fanfiction.net/index.fic?action=story-read&StoryID=382736&Chapter=8



	8. Duels, Poisons and Draco Malfoy.

Deceit, and Second Chances chapter 8

Duels, Poisons and Draco Malfoy.

By Chris.

Summary: Harry and Ginny look to take out the final target; Lord Voldemort. Of course, he won't come easily, especially not when a faithful Death Eater who was thought to be dead returns. Who will Draco side with in the end... Crosses and double crosses galore.

Author note: Again, thank you to everyone that's reviewed... I would dedicate this chapter to you all, but I think dedications are tacky. So I'll just give you a shout out: Regina, Rhi, No reply, Raven of Death, Person and Spitfyre... Oh what the hell, this is dedicated to all my fellow H/G, R/Hr or H/Hr buddies.

Warning: Dark fic.

Chapter 8

Duels, Poisons and Draco Malfoy.

In the distance, further screams erupted. Shrieks of terror and pain, followed dazzling light beams of almost every colour. Angry growls, and yet more shrieks, and shouts continued to fill the air for minutes further until, inevitably, silence one out.

'We've got to go,' said Ginny, looking anxious. Her face had paled somewhat, though Harry was sure it had more to do with the fact that they were going to be facing Voldemort soon, then worrying about the Taskforce. Dropping to the floor, so they were somewhat hidden by undergrowth, she placed a tiny bottle of ink on a tree stump and pulled out an old looking scroll. Dull and brown with various wrinkles and tares it looked ancient, even though it wasn't. Overuse had left it in this tatty condition. She should know, she had used it more then the others to find her Ring in her third year at Hogwarts.

'You got a quill?' she asked, tapping the parchment with her wand, and muttering a few muted words not loud enough for anyone to hear.

Searching through his pockets, Harry finally found what felt like a quill. 'Here,' he said, handing it over, then listening carefully added, 'I think they're about fifty feet in that direction.'

Ginny looked to where he had pointed and nodded. Harry noticed however, she had made no move to take the quill. Rather, she was giving him an incredibly strange look, with a raised eyebrow. She had never looked so beautiful to Harry for as long as he could remember. Oh, he realised now—well realised years ago—she had always been stunning, when she wanted to; he couldn't help notice that in the years he'd had only her as a friend. But in all those years, she had had the same weight on her shoulders he had, that shadow of Voldemort and the Ministry of Magic hanging over her. Though she wasn't there when he had stormed the Ministry, she had stuck by him, and that in itself was good enough for Cornelius Fudge to mark her for death. But now though, now they were close to finishing it and once again becoming free from their past, in that very moment, she almost seemed carefree, and innocent again, like the Ginny he'd know at Hogwarts before he'd dragged her into the dark pit that was his life.

'You are hopeless, you know that?' she said, shaking her head with a genuine grin. Pulling out her own quill instead, she frantically scribbled something down. 'Okay, done.' She threw the parchment to the floor, in a small area—no more then a meter in length—that as void of plants. This way, it was easier to see; they could be sure the person they wanted to find it, would. 'Let's hope he gets it,' said Ginny, biting her bottom lip with a worried expression that was hidden beneath a facade of her sheer dogged determination to get this all over and done with. 

'Lucky you picked that up from Hermione.'

'Thought it might come on handy,' said Ginny with a superior grin as she raised her hand high into the air a dull bland object in her grasp. In one quick motion she brought whatever it was she was holding down hard against the tree trunk, smashing what Harry recognised as a rare magical device used to hinder Apparating. Tiny fragments of glass were left in the undergrowth, though the liquid quickly soaked into the ground and mixed with puddles of water and mud. Then, with that, she was gone; Apparated away to the village of little Hangleton. The crunching of twigs seemed to be almost upon Harry, who Apparated just in time. He felt the surroundings begin to disappear seconds before the Taskforce arrived, wand's blazing. As he felt the trees fade around him, shifting into the lighter greens of the rolling countryside on the horizon, he was sure he saw a red head in the far distance, ducking and dodging though trees.

...It was Ron.

*

Ron made sure he was the first to go in—from the bogus tip-off that Harry was staying at a Muggle Village in Essex disguised as a clown, to the team storming the scene of the first of the three Marks—no matter what the situation, he was always the first. Many would believe him to be unbelievably brave, scouting ahead in the face of danger so he could give the others a better chance of catching Harry, not only did he put his line on the life for his fellow Taskforce Wizards, he was also prepared to stand up to his former best friend and his own sister for the good of the magical world; Ron Weasley was a true hero. The truth of the matter though was he'd worked so hard to become part of the Taskforce for the exact opposite reason. This way, he could ensure to buy Harry and his sister some extra time if needed, perhaps he might even save their lives by tipping them off with his presence. The others, well, they would all go in "Spells first, ask questions later." He may not have forgiven Harry for what he had done, and for taking his sister down with him—far from it—but that certainly didn't mean he wanted Harry dead. ('As if any of us could kill him,' thought Ron. 'We'd no sooner be able to kill him then Voldemort himself.) That's why he had applied for the Taskforce—the special Ministry group whose goal it was to capture Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley—to try and work things out in his own mind. He still couldn't figure out exactly why Harry stormed the Ministry that night years back—an event that had almost cost Ron a sentance at Azkaban—but he believed that by joining the Taskforce he might be able to piece the information. 

It was just as well he had done so, because Ron wasn't so sure everything was as it seemed in this dangerous vendetta of Harry's. Especially not after what he'd witnessed that very day, and after what he'd discovered weeks earlier. There was definitely something going on that he didn't know about: But what? And did this change the situation? Too many questions, not enough answers!

Looking into the sky, or what little fragments of the it could be made out through the thick leafy cover, Ron could see the outlines of a giant mark; not enough to fully make out, just snippets of red here, and a line or a curve there. It didn't matter though, he already knew what it'd be. Vivid blood-reds shone through the gaps, to a degree lighting the forest up; a while back, he didn't even need to use his wand to guide him through, the first mark provided enough light to do so. From the brightness of the red's at that very moment, Ron guessed he was directly under the second mark.

His eye's glanced around the environment, quickly scanning everything he could just in case there had been something left for him by either Ginny or Harry. He didn't know what it would be, by he was sure there would be something, he only hoped he could find it in time. As rustling of other wizards in the team making there way through the thick undergrowth sounded behind him, Ron's eye's focused on a small piece of parchment in a bald patch of soil six or so meters ahead. Dull and worn, he almost let it go as something that had been lying there for years; that's how old it looked. But as he closed in, his face lit up in recognition, nearly slapping himself for not doing so sooner, the number of times he and Harry had used the Marauders map in their years at Hogwarts. In fact, they did more then just use it. Him and Hermione had been the ones to help Harry figure out how to write on map, adding to it rooms the Marauders—Padfoot, Prongs, Mooney and the treacherous Wormtail—had missed, namely: the chamber of secrets, the Sorcerer's gauntlet, and a few of the other rooms that the Marauders hadn't found that the Dream Team had (And Ron was sure that future owners of the map would find rooms that neither the 'Marauders' nor the 'Dream Team' had even come close to finding. Hogwarts was just that big.) Bending over, he slipped the map into his pocket, to read when he got a chance.

'What you found there, Ron?' asked a Wizard dressed in dark forest green that was obviously supposed to function as some sort of camouflage. Ron could feel his cold steely glare fixed on him.

'This,' said Ron, holding his hand out for the other man to see. 'Though there might be a trail of it or something.'

The other man stared at him for a moment, looking at the fresh blood on his fingers. For a moment, Ron thought he was going to call him on the matter, but the other mans dull blue eye's eventually left Ron, glancing over his shoulder instead. 'It was probably just a vole. Keep searching... Over in that direction.' He was pointing to a denser patch of trees up ahead that seemed a likely place for a fugitive to be hiding. 

As Ron disappeared into the trees, he heard the man shout orders and instructions, even his voice sounding cold. The other man had every reason to hate both Ron, Harry and Ginny though. His son had been killed when Harry had stormed the Ministry, and ever since then Michael Henson had been obsessed with catching Harry.

'Lockey, get in the scanners, we know they've got an invisibility cloak, we don't want to let them slip past if they are still here. Not when we're so close.'

As soon as Ron was hidden by the cover of several bushy trees and even bushier bushes, he got the Marauders map out. Placing it on the ground he tapped it with his wand and muttered, 'I do solemnly swear I am up to no good.' Immediately, spreading out in a wed like way, black ink filled the page and, as he had seen it do so often green words scrawled across the map declaring:

__

Messrs Mooney, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs.

Purveyor of aids to magical mischief-makers

are proud to present 

THE MARAUDERS MAP

The words faded, and a few seconds later a few extra words took their place, this time a sea-blue colour that Ron could still vividly remember writing to this very day, despite the fact it had been 15 years:

__

With additions by the 'Dream Team':

L. Bolt, Moneybags, and Bookworm.

Ron laughed at the nickname he had chose to put down, even though it wasn't true. In fact, at the time, it was as far from the truth as swearing Voldemort was good deep down inside, or like saying Ron liked Draco Malfoy. It was good to have been as close to Harry and Hermione as he was; close enough to be to joke about your insecurities and, what in your eyes was the worst parts about yourself. Ron had long considered being poor was the worst part of himself—if that were true though, he really didn't have much to worry about. Better being poor that then being rotten to the core. At least you could make money in your life, but you couldn't change if you're a genuinely nasty person like many Ron knew, Draco Malfoy but one of the long list. It just isn't possible.

A few seconds later, an as close to a perfect map of Hogwarts as possible filled the scroll. The first thing Ron noticed was that several new rooms had been written in. At least they hadn't been there the last time Ron had seen the map. Harry, or someone who had owned it since, had made several additions including a corridor that didn't seem to lead anywhere, and a small cluster of rooms under the lake. In the corner, at the very edge of the map where the Forbidden Forest would lie, a small dot stood out. Blinking first red, and then black again, Ron had never seen a marking anything like that on the map. It was Ron knew—obviously—something that had been left for him to see. Not quite sure what to do, he stood where he was for a few seconds, and then, raising his wand tapped it on the dot. 

'Show your secrets.' 

A scroll like writing, made it's way across the map, very scruffy, but what Ron recognised as his sisters. It was immediately obvious as the words were quite scruffy, as though written in a hurry, quite unlike Ginny's usually neat writing.

__

And why would we want to do that ...

Ron thought for a moment, and tapping the map again answered, 'Because, "Moneybags" wishes to know!' It was obviously what was needed, because at once, more scrawl like writing appeared, which Ron read just as quickly as it came.

__

Ron, haven't got much time...

If you want to see us, we'll be at the...

'Worthington Inn,' Little Hangleton, in an hours time...

Have a few things to tell...

We don't have to tell you not to tell anyone...

Ginny and Harry.

*

Harry and Ginny both appeared in the Little Hangleton village square. The square was the most commercial area of the tiny village, and even then had only a corner shop which double served as a post office, and a small pub Inn. The closest commercial town—Great Hangleton—was some twelve miles north or Little Hangleton, through winding country roads that curled around themselves in much the same way as Hogwarts many corridors—this fact made the journey to Great Hangleton more like a twenty mile trek. Little Hangleton was, in one word: Miniature. Although living in such a small village had it's advantages—tranquillity, a close-nit community, not to mention the abundance of what many would describe as magnificent views—it was also secluded, and many of the residents had quite the hike just to buy every day items. 

Even though it was so secluded, and chances of someone seeing them, particularly at such an early hour, were astronomically small, neither Harry or Ginny wanted to leave anything to chance, and Apparated to an alleyway just north of where they wanted to be.

'I can't believe you brought that,' laughed Ginny, albeit a somewhat nervous laugh.

Looking down at the "quill" in his hand, Harry stifled a less nervous laugh, shrugging dismissively, 'What, easy mistake to make.' Looking back at the flower in his hands he added, 'I wondered where that got to.' Harry handed the dead plant over to Ginny ('For you.'), who took the flower with perhaps a hint of scepticism, wrinkling her face at the poor excuse of a plant.

The flowers petals were long since shed, no doubt now laying in the bottom of Harry' pockets. The stem had faded and run out of life, and now, the surely once vivid green stem was a pale, straw-yellow, crumpled and dry. The only thing that did still stand out was the flower-face itself, where a bright red gem even in the dark seemed to shimmer.

'So... should I be charmed?' said Ginny with a half smirk.

'Yes you should,' said Harry in no uncertain terms. 'Look at it: It's the Twelve Nation rose!'

Ginny' eyes widened in shock as, giving the dead flower a second look, she realised what Harry was claiming was true. 'You won the Twelve Nation challenge!' she said in disbelief, then getting used to Harry's claim grinned from ear to ear as the comical appearance of the champion came rushing back. 'I wondered where you'd got to that day, you were Norris Albert-Greenway!'

'Well,' said Harry looking slightly embarrassed. 'I though you might like rose, don't ask me where I got that idea from, but I did. So I entered, as, yes, Norris Albert-Greenway... Made some feature changing potion. And you know potions aren't my forte, which explained the ears, and the pasty colour of dear Norris. But yeah, I won the challenge. Got the cup hidden with Eve.'

'You done it for me?' said Ginny through mock tears. 'When you know flowers aren't my thing, Harry Potter!'

'Well I'm hurt,' said Harry in an indignant tone. 'You know I had to battle a giant amongst other things!' At Ginny's unimpressed, and more then sarcastic, 'Ooooh,' Harry added, 'Without a wand, Gin!'

'In that case,' said Ginny with a wicked grin that never failed to inspire apprehension in Harry. 'Thank you... Oh, and I'll take the prize money while you're at it. What was it, two-hundred-thousand Galleons?'

'Three,' muttered Harry cursing under his breath. 'You're an evil woman, Ginny Weasley, you know that? And you're welcome.'

Then, covering themselves in the invisibility cloak, both headed due south to Riddle Mansion—atop a massive hill—in reflective silence.

The rest of the journey was as silent as it stated; reflective quite changing to that of nervous. Minutes dragged on in rows of small, white cottages with their newly renovated straw roofs. Matching white picket fences set each houses neat garden apart from the next. The cottages and bungalows became hedges, hills, and things all to typical of village life minutes later. They walked for what felt like hours against the ever same backdrop of what was now the beginnings of countryside. Green pastures of crops ran up the hills, with an occasional patch of yellow where oilseed rape had flourished over the summer months and was now ripe for the harvest. The air had also changed, stale and thick with manure, it was sickening to those that weren't used to it. The last sign of life they had seen was the flock of sheep, sleeping in their pasture... or were they dead? It wouldn't surprise Harry in the least if Voldemort had killed everything Muggle-related in the entire village. After twenty minutes of walking, the Riddle Mansion stood in sight.

The house itself was nothing like the other buildings back at the village. It was huge, and stood almost unnaturally in this quite little corner of tranquillity. Harry could see that Voldemort's use of his fathers mansion had neither doomed it, nor helped it. The house stood looking run down, though not overly. It was true that if someone were to provide it with a homes love, and take care of it properly, it would be a most grand building. A few feet from the house, stood a small building that had once been home to the Muggle that kept the house and grounds. It, unlike the mansion, was in much better condition, and stood next to an overgrown garden. Behind hedges, an array of weeds attacked the flowing lawn, and flowerbeds, which, by the heavy floral aroma—which could almost be bottled and sold as perfume—still provided home to a few rose nurseries. Ginny instinctively gripped her own rose tighter—which fortunately had lost all it's thorns during it's stay in Harry' pocket—it may be the last thing she ever saw of Harry's.

'No,' she thought angrily. 'I mustn't think like that. He'll be fine.'

As if sensing her fears, the house took a more forbidding tone. A stray raven... Or was it a crow? Well, a huge black bird, almost the size of an eagle glided silently past, it's vast wings letting it sail onto the mansion roof. Giving an eerie caw in the otherwise silent countryside, it's every presence seemed to disturb the balance, though for which way, wasn't clear. It found it's way into the building, through an open window on the second floor, from which billowing curtains had caught the wind and were reaching out like ghostly digits as if to grab the crow. Turning to look back just once, it's beady eye's flashed with something that couldn't quite be placed, and then, it left; once again, everything was silent.

The surroundings were eerily quite, more so then even a cemetery would—or should—be, the cawing of the lone crow was the only sound other then their own heavy breathing they'd heard for miles here. Even the breeze passing through the trees in the distance was silent as though they were on a Muggle television set and someone had hit the mute button. It seemed as though Riddle Mansion were a place of death; standing deserted, and forever in silence. 

A blustery wind, that was almost as silent as the rest of the scenery, snaked it's way from the top of the hill, throwing the crops in it's wake, it eventually hit, an icy front that brought with it a drizzle of rain. Tiny drops of early morning drizzle, thrown from light grey clouds that had crept in, unnoticed and unseen against the dull backdrop of the early sky. The sun was still minutes from rising, and the pre-dawn colours were fast setting in... Red sky in morning...

Looking anxiously to one another, they prepared to finish this once and for all. Either way, in a few minutes time, they would be free of the shadow that for years had been hanging over them, and the rest of the world for good. The plan was quite unlike what they were used to; they would be apart to complete it, something they hadn't been in twelve years.

From inside, the crow emerged and again took flight, it's powerful wings flapping violently in a battle against the sweeping winds. It took a while for the black bird to reach the smaller building beside the mansion, but as soon as it did, it was gone.

Taking a deep breath, Ginny looked at Harry next to her, biting her lip in an anxious gesture she turned away, hoping he didn't catch it.

'It's going to be fine, Gin,' he said. 'We will finish him, once and for all!'

Ginny nodded, though she couldn't help the churning sensation in the pit of her stomach, as with a vengeance, butterflies fluttered around, and her previous days dinner threatened to come back up. 'I just wish we didn't have to do it this way... '

'We do, though. Everyone deserves a second chance,' said Harry. 'We do it this way, and more then one person gets theirs. We get ours. But I know you're there, and you know I'm here should it go wrong; watch each others backs, as always.'

'Take care,' said Ginny. Then, pausing before doing so, she leant forward and kissed Harry on the cheek, allowing her lips to linger for just a second. Without turning back, she left him, walking towards the building where the crow had been, her perfume still heavy on Harry's clothes and in the air.

Waiting until she had disappeared, Harry hesitantly removed a ring from his hand, he wavered a few times. Harry was unsure of what would happen; the ring was his link to Ginny, and had only been removed one before and even then, only for a second. That second was one of the worst of his life. Slipping it away, he braced himself. A sharp shooting pain travelled from his finger to the rest of his body, cutting through him so badly he barley managed to keep from crying out in pain; the link to his Anchor was severed. Dropping the lion sculpted golden circle into a pocket, it's two diamond eye's lit up, glowing a silvery colour as it left his hand. The light it the out was great, even dazzling after he'd dropped it into his pocket. It eventually faded to nothing, leaving Harry with a great feeling of overwhelming sadness—almost... almost as if a Dementor were near, as though swarms of the disgusting creatures were closing in, sucking every happy though from his body leaving only the sad ones. Harry felt alone and deserted, his hands shaking almost as though in withdrawal symptoms from a drug. Power was a drug; he'd just lost the source of his power. Taking another ring, almost identical to the first, he slipped it on the same finger, the ring covering the red marks left by the first, but feeling so wrong. It wasn't the same. Without the original, without the link of the ring of the Sorcerer, all power was drained from him. Without it, he was weak and vulnerable. It was all part of the plan. With a dark smile, Harry made his way up the path leading to the door.

'Voldemort, you are mine!' 

The words were lost in the winds.

*

The house was as dark as Harry had ever seen. Not only were there no lights, but there were no chairs, no tables... There was no furniture at all, just as there were no pictures on the walls. Nothing to suggest anyone lived here, or for that matter, had ever lived there. It was a saddening experience, nothing like what a house should be like. Harry made a mental note that when this was all over, he would buy a house and fill it completely with items and objects, with pictures and memories, with magic and sound. It would be just like the Weasley's house. A stray tear ran down his face over his cheek, and Harry realised it wasn't the emptiness of the house that seemed so sad, rather, it was reminiscent emotions from loosing his connection. He knew if he came here tomorrow, with Ginny, the house wouldn't seem nearly so dark nor empty.

Cobwebs that hung from the ceilings and walls bared witness to how long this house had been without care, and most of the doorways were either missing the handles, or, when they still had their handles intact, they were so badly rusted, they really weren't much trouble to get past. Shuddering slightly, Harry was glad he hadn't told Ron to meet them at this place; a meter in front of him, a spider the size of those in the forbidden forest—the size of a hand—scuttled across the floor and disappeared in a small hole in the wood frame work. It's black hairy legs working overtime to escape the shadow that Harry brought.

Turning another corner, Harry noticed a sliver of red-orange running up the side of the wall, emanating from a room whose door had been left slightly ajar. Taking his wand out, he placed a simple defence charm on himself, one that he had learned years back, when he was at Hogwarts. Of course, it would be useless against Voldemort, but it served a purpose nonetheless. Harry was at the door, his hand touched the wood work, then, before he entered, Harry brought a small bottle to his lips, and swallowed.

Pushing the door open, Harry was shocked to see the room was not much different to the others: Empty. A lone armchair sat pointing away from him next to a fire which filled the room with the warmth and light, but no other homey objects stood anywhere else. Though he couldn't see him, Harry could already sense who was sitting on the chair, the scar on his forehead tingled with a pain that refused to quit. He had to fight to resist the urge to scratch the scar.

From behind the chair, a reptilian voice spoke. Even now, Harry couldn't help but shudder as Voldemort's voice addressed him, a high hiss of a voice. But the fear was nothing next to the blind rage that made Harry want to tear the dark wizard limb from limb. 'Harry. I've been waiting here since last night. Did it really take you so long to finish Lucius and Peter?'

Standing at the door, Harry made no move to enter, speaking in an eerily calm tone himself. 'I could have finished them faster, but where would be the fun in simply killing them?'

Voldemort continued to sit in the armchair, bringing his thin and pale, bony hand up to get the full warmth of the fire, the limb pointing out from behind the chair. None of his body could be seen, except the skeleton like limb. 

A battle of the minds had already begun, each wizard fighting to keep calm in what both knew to be the final confrontation with nemesis.

'Yes! Wormtail told me you were particularly brutal with Lucius. And with his son for that matter. As I understand, Draco wasn't even one of your three targets... Tell me, how did you dispose of Wormtail?' Almost as if he could see Harry' surprised expression, Voldemort explained, his voice a hissing sound from the chair. 'I felt it, Harry. You know that Peter was my Anchor. The pathetic, traitorous excuse for a wizard he was, I had a link to him. I felt the moment you killed him; the moment the link was gone. Excruciating pain, it was. I am not ashamed to say I called out with the pain -'

On cue, Harry dropped to the floor as a pain that was all too real filled his body, the vial of potion he'd drunk in the hall making itself felt. No part went untouched, the burning sensation was complete, and this time, Harry couldn't stop himself shouting out as he struggled just to stay on his two feet.

'- much the same as that,' finished Voldemort with a laugh. For the first time since Harry had entered, Voldemort got—slowly—out of his chair. Looking at Harry with his evil smile, his red cat-like-slots for eye's tinkling with anticipation, and his slit-like-nostrils flaring with excitement. 

'Like that did you, Harry?' said Voldemort with a malice that was almost physical with it's presence, causing Harry to stumble back, remnants of the earlier pain pounding his body. 'It's much the same as what I felt. That-' said Voldemort, pausing and taking a satisfying breath through his snake shaped nose, 'That is what it feels like, Harry. That is the pain you feel when you loose your anchor.'

'SHUT UP,' spat Harry, gripping his fists tightly. Even though he knew it couldn't be true, just the though of loosing Ginny was enough to make his blood boil. 'Shut up, shut up! I don't believe you. You are nothing, you are weak without little Wormtail, and you... You'll try anything to survive now.'

'Really?' said Voldemort half facing Harry, half facing the fire. It was a taunt. He was watching the fire and not Harry, as if he didn't have to worry about the Auror beside him. 'You look angry, Harry. I would go so far to say blind with rage. Are you angry? You have remarkable self-control, I must say. When I had my slave, Wormtail, here, when I got angry I found it hard to control myself. I don't control the power, the power controls me! It's about want, Harry, want. If that slave of yours-'

'She's not a slave,' said Harry. His breath slowed as he fought to control the desire to attack Voldemort there and then.

'Indeed,' said Voldemort with a mocking tone, 'I shouldn't have expected any more from one who befriends Muggle-lovers and Muggle-born's. Whatever way you see her, Harry: servant, equal, friend... lover?'

Harry flinched at the last word, and hoped that Voldemort didn't see. But his snake-like-eye's seemed to catch everything.

'-Lover! A lover during night's of passion, forgotten the day after. You never told her how you really felt; you'll never get the chance now. Were you afraid?' Voldemort seemed to be reading Harry like a book, his eyes seemingly looking deep into Harry in a way only one other man—Dumbledore—could do. 'Yes, you were to afraid of what she might think? What else were you afraid of? That she would leave you if you asked for more, and then you'd be powerless... that's ruthless, Harry. That's treating her like the slave she is, using her when you want, but giving her nothing in return. I am impressed. Denying her what you knew, deep-down, she wanted, just in case you got hurt in the process.'

'It wasn't like that,' retorted Harry angrily, a wicked smile then forming on his face. 'I didn't want to risk our friendship... but then again, I doubt you would know about friendship. Nor love for that matter. Your mother died bringing you into the world, Voldemort, you were never loved by her. She could probably see what you were, what you would become, she would rather die then stay with you. You're Muggle father hated you and left you. My, my, Voldemort, if only more people knew of Tom Riddle, you wouldn't be nearly as feared. Tell me, did you make many friends at your orphanage or at Hogwarts for that matter?'

For a second, Voldemort seemed lost for words, a look of anger, of rage flashed across his face but then he simply smiled. 'Yes, we are very much alike, Harry. You do have a hurtful tongue, like me.' A cold, hollow laugh escaped his lips. 'But answer your own question, Harry, do you have any friends?'

'Ginny,' retorted Harry.

'Hero worship—if she were still alive that is,' Voldemort said with a cruel smile. 'Like all the rest of your friends; hero-worship. It is because of me that you have, what you call friends. They aren't true friends, they are people who want a part of your glory. A part of the glory of knowing the-boy-who-lived, the boy who survived, escaped from the greatest, most feared wizard of all time. It is just as with my followers, my loyal Death Eaters, except they want a part of my power instead of the glory of surviving. They won't settle for just survival, they follow me. Yes, we are very much alike in that sense.'

'Ron,' said Harry quickly. 'Ron never wanted glory, and Hermione, neither did Hermione.'

'Ron... Ron Weasley? I hear he is part of the Taskforce. He's trying to get you Harry, that doesn't sound like a friend to me. I don't think he has ever forgiven you for killing those people in the Ministry of Magic. And Hermione Granger... A Muggle born. You, like I, was raised by Muggles, you were merely a little bit of familiarity in a scary new world. Or perhaps... love can make you do such silly things, like feign friendship. We are so very much alike you and I. Both feared by the entire Wizarding world, both kill to achieve what we want-'

'Enough,' said Harry, angrily raising his hand in a gesture resembling an open handed punch. Nothing happened.

'Believe me now, Harry?' said Voldemort, opening a window. A large crow jumped in, landing on his shoulder. 'Your powers have gone. Your Anchor is dead.'

'NO!' shouted Harry, so loudly the crow gave an angry caw and took flight, zooming to the half opened door and disappearing into the hall beyond. Throwing his hands at Voldemort, and shouting loudly, Harry tried, once again, to work the magic. At that moment, the smallest twinkling of magic would have sufficed, but there was nothing. 'No... No, no, no... She's alive, I know she's alive,' he repeated with tears in his eye's.

'Now, now, Harry, don't let's spoil the mood with a pointless show of tears,' laughed Voldemort. 'We were just building up a dialogue here. I will give you the chance to avenge her death, as I will have a chance to avenge my loss. You can still remember how to use a wand, can't you?'

With an dark looked that was only rivalled by Voldemort own, Harry drew his wand. 'I remember. I always deal the killing blow with my wand. This... Well, this is just like skipping the torture in between, but I hear you can't die, so perhaps there will be time for that later!'

For the first time Harry had seen, Voldemort had a look of genuine fear. Not just apprehension of the unknown, or mere worry, it was real fear. Just the thought of it seemed to knock Harry for six. He didn't know why he was so shocked by this, Voldemort was reported to have feared Dumbledore, so he did fear. It was just strange seeing the most feared wizard of all time fear himself.

'Are you scared of death, Voldemort?' asked Harry, feeling a bead of sweat run down the side of his face.

'No more then you, I can see,' said Voldemort, his cat-like red eye's watching Harry's perspiration fall to his cheek, and then to the floor.

'Then it comes down to who has more hate, does it not?' said Harry controlling the quiver in his voice. 'And believe me, killing my parents will give me more hate then you will ever know.'

'Why?' taunted Voldemort. 'You never knew them. But you, you nearly destroyed everything, everything I had worked for, everything I had killed for. You've destroyed it one time after another. No, Harry, no, You do not know true hate... It's a shame there is so much hate between us though, together we could have been gods.'

'I daresay,' said Harry. For the briefest of moments, a dark thought danced through his head, dominating all other thoughts. He was standing on the ruins of the Ministry of Magic headquarters, surrounding him were hundreds of wizards, all bowing before him, worshipping him. He was a god, an immortal god... and there was Ginny, and Hermione, and Ron, and all his friends. On their knees before him... nothing more then slaves. No, it would never happen, he would never want that for his friends. 'But I guess we will never know. Shall we duel?'

'To the death, Harry,' said Voldemort. 'Come, I will prove to you that I am the greatest wizard alive.'

Voldemort's evil, red, gleaming eyes met Harry's own rage-filled pools of green. Matching dark half-smirks plastered across their faces as they both bowed, never letting their eyes wonder. Harry's wand gripped in his right hand, which hung tensely at his side, and Voldemort's, almost as if it were a mirror, done the same, his claw like hands twisted tightly around the wand.

'On three...' hissed Voldemort.

'Two...' counted down Harry, his perspiration covered robes gripping skin, feeling like a second skin themselves.

'One,' shouted Voldemort raising his left hand—his wand still gripped tightly in his right—a wand that had been concealed up his sleeve shooting out into his grip as he shouted, '_Avada Kedavra_.'

Harry mentally kicked himself, he should have realised that Voldemort had a trick up his sleeve—literally—but he didn't. He barely had time to perform his own matching fatal curse, Voldemort's own mere inches from hitting Harry as the two curses collided. 

Just as Harry expected, both wands shook violently, so violently that Harry wondered if in fact it was he who was shaking, or perhaps the ground and not the wand. But he already knew the answer. Voldemort stood, grasping his wand in an iron tight grip, as it shook just as violently as Harry's. The dark wizard looked confused; unlike Harry, he wasn't prepared for this, he never knew their wands were brothers. A golden beam of light now connected the two wands, and in his attempt to keep hold of the wand in his left hand, Voldemort dropped the one in his right, the magic item clattering—almost unnoticed—to the ground. 

Both men stood, still their eye's never leaving each other, dark looks burning holes in the other man even if their curses could not. The golden line splintered into hundreds more. More strings of light filling the room, shaming the raging fire that stood in the corner. The light now formed a circle around them, a great golden geodesic dome that filled the whole room whole, with it's intense glow.

Voldemort looked as puzzled as when it had first started, and Harry could see he was still trying t figure it out. Harry's own expression hadn't changed either; an expression of hatred mixed with... impatience.. Though not wanting to look away from Voldemort, Harry couldn't help shoot passing glances at the fire, and quickly back to the dark Lord; who seemed to have an unsettling knowing look. A look of knowing but not of the Priori Incartatum, Harry could see he was just as confused with that as when the connection had first been mane. Voldemort knew something else... Could it be he knew... Harry didn't want to think like that.

Quickly, the golden threads changed again, tiny glittering beads appearing on the beam of light that connected Harry's wand to Voldemort's. Harry knew what he had to do; he had to let the beam come to him. Concentrating, he fought to make the beam come closer. Each centimetre it came, the harder the wand shook, the harder it became to hold the wand, the hotter it became... Closer, hotter, more unbearable... The bead was just inches away, and the heat... the heat was unbearable. White hot, his hands burnt as if they had been plunged into the fire in the corner. Still, he couldn't let go, his hand seemed bound, with cement, or powerful spellotape wrapped in a mummy fashion around his hand... Centimetres... millimetres... And then, the bead touched his wand.

For a second, Voldemort had a victorious look, sure something would happed. But nothing did, at least nothing the dark lord wanted to. The connection didn't break, Harry didn't collapse, or fall, or die.

Voldemort could do nothing but gape as, from the tip of Harry's wand, thick grey smoke emerged. So thick it was solid. One at a time, more then ghosts but less then living, fallen dark wizards, many of whom had once served under Voldemort himself emerged from the tip of Harry' wand. Shadows of their former self, they soon filled the room completely. Tens... Ten's of ten's, of wizards, former followers of the Dark Lord, they crowded round, spiteful and vengeful to Harry.

'Kill him dark lord,' said one man, who Voldemort recognised as a followers from the ministry of magic. 'I, your most faithful servant implore you to avenge our deaths.'

'We have all fallen in your service by this ones,' said another shooting a venomous look at Harry, 'own wand.'

'...Kill him...' 

'...End his life...'

'...Make him suffer... Make him pay...'

'...Prove who is the greatest wizard...'

'...Kill Harry Potter.'

Soon, there were to many to count, the room was choked in a haze of thick grey smoke as there were more wizards then room. Shouts, and screams of anger melted into each other, one voice, one cry no longer distinguishable from another. Then, three final shadow emerged, one after another. Harry' first three victims, the three people he had killed at the Ministry of Magic the time he had stormed the building... It was Jason Flint, Daniel Henson and Samantha Lee. After he had killed them, there was no turning back. After he had taken that final step into the darkness, after killing, he killed again and again, and again, ever after. As soon as he those three emerged, (They too were shouting and screaming, though what they were shouting, Harry cold only guess.) the connection broke, Harry finally forcing his wand to point away from Voldemort.

The echoes of wizards swarmed around Harry, spiteful, angry, vengeful... Wanting nothing more to see their own killer killed himself. There were too many to fight, the smoke too thick to move through almost like a force; it was a blessing in disguise. There were so many, the smoke that swarmed around Harry shouting, hissing, spitting, so thick, that Voldemort couldn't get to Harry; he could only shoot blindly into the swarm of dead wizards, missing every time. 

Soon, much faster then they had appeared, the wizards disappeared, leaving Harry and Voldemort facing each other once again. 

Harry was thankful that the reminder of his victims had finally gone, their haunting faces had been almost too much. Though many were dark wizards, he couldn't help but feel the guilt over what he'd done; what he had become. Even more regretful to him now was that he hadn't told Ginny. Ginny was blind to what Harry had become, almost going so far as to follow him into the darkness. Harry had lied to her for years... Well, not so much lied, just hadn't told her the entire truth. As far as Ginny was aware he had killed only three wizards in his life, and those were in exceptional circumstances; life or death situations; Harry had no other choice. What she didn't know is, in all those years since then, since Harry had made his first kill, he'd done it again, and again, and again. Each time they took down a dark wizard, each time they left them for "The Ministry" to pick up, Ginny didn't know Harry would return at some point... Then he would end their lives. Then again, Ginny didn't know the things he knew. As close as they were, he hadn't told her his most fiercely kept secrets; it was for her own good. If she knew, then she would have no other choice then to join Harry; would have to learn to kill. Though he knew his partner was somewhat darker then other wizards, she was the worlds best at torture, she was not ready to kill, to bring death to others, and even if she were, Harry wouldn't let her. As he very well knew, giving in, taking the easy option out, only lead to pain. Once you cross that final mark, take that final step: Once you kill, you can kill again. If Ginny took that final step, she would be lost forever, it would eat away at her soul as it had done Harry's. It was only her that had kept Harry from drifting further into the darkness; if it weren't for her, he might very well have become the next Voldemort. So he never told her the truth... only he knew the truth.

'What... What was that?' Voldemort demanded, his wand still pointed at Harry in a futile threatening gesture. Both knew that a duel would accomplish nothing. 'I've never seen such a thing.'

'Priori Incartatum,' said Harry, his own wand pointed warily at Voldemort. 'Our wands are from the same Phoenix.'

Taking in the information, Voldemort nodded in understanding. 'Then, it appears we are at a deadlock. We will simply have a repeat of that show... and as much joy as I got from your obvious discomfort at once again seeing those you have killed, it was hardly what I planned.' Breathing with a sigh through his snake like nose Voldemort shook his head. 'I do so hate to do this... I would rather have taken you in a duel, so there could be no confusion as to who was the greater... but nonetheless... _Avada Kedavra,_' cried Voldemort, pointing his wand at Harry, who immediately mirrored his action. The wands once again shook, the connection again made. 

A shout of 'Expelliarmus' filled the air, piercing the phoenix song with abandon, and the next thing Harry knew, he found himself lying in a crumpled heap against the wall, a deep gash across the side of his head, matting his black scruffy hair with blood. Even more dire, his wand now lay the other side of the room, by the doorway, next to a black robe that was of such a long length, it covered the shoes of the individual and draped along the floor. Leaving the cut on the side of his head be, Harry let his eye's follow the robe up to see who it was, even though he had a fair idea already. He recognised the face in an instance, with his pale grey eye's, and the twisted sneer and a look of hate, Harry would never forget that face. The face of...

'Malfoy,' said Harry with disgust, as though the other man was something that dwelled in a sewer. Struggling to stand up he had to press against the wall to do so he was so dazed by the blow. Harry eventually got to his feet, his eye's darting from Draco to Voldemort, and then to the fire.

'I'll bet you're surprised to see me here, Potter,' said Draco with a sly grin. 'Alive I mean.'

'It... It's not possible,' said Harry in disbelief, looking Draco up and down as if to look for anything to give it away as a trick.

'Oh, but it is, Harry,' said Voldemort coolly. Then addressing Draco, though his eye's never left Harry, he said, 'His wand, give it to me.'

'Yes my lord,' said Draco in a tone that reminded Harry far to much of Wormtail. Draco picked up the wand that lay at his feet, his eye's meeting Harry' as he done so, a look of disgust and loathing flashing across his face, a look that was reserved just for Harry; a look that was much the same as Snape's and uncle Vernon's look. His eyes, unseen to Voldemort, flashed to the fire and then back at Harry, and then finally to himself. Draco approached the Dark Lord, kneeling before him and kissing the hem of his robes before he held Harry's wand up for his master to take.

'Where are Crabbe and Goyle?' said Voldemort with disinterest.

'They are dead, my lord,' said Draco sadly at the loss of his friends. 'Dead by the hand of that daughter of a Muggle-lover, Mud-blood wanna be, Weasley. But-' he said looking spitefully at Harry, 'her body lies next to theirs my lord. I saw to that.'

'Liar,' shouted Harry, a spray of spit flying from his mouth as he dived at Malfoy. With a mere flick of Voldemort's wand, Harry was send hurtling back once again, impacting against the wall with a thump.

'You think so, do you,' said Malfoy, looking at Harry. 'Surely you felt when the curse struck her. That is, if your connection with her is as close as you say.'

Harry never answered, his mind instead trying to figure out what was happening. 'How?' he finally asked, his green eyes fixed on Malfoy with unrivalled hate. 'I saw... I saw you killed.'

'No,' said Voldemort with an edge of excitement, the sounds that came out higher then usual; hisses that almost became squeaks. 'You saw him fall in pain.'

'I saw him fall to the Avada Kedavra curse,' said Harry, fiercely. Once again he eyed the fire half, the flames now crackling down, now no more then glowing embers. 'I know what I saw, and I saw the curse, not just pain.'

'Yes,' said Voldemort, gripping his wand firmly. 'You did. But, fortunately, for Draco here, his father was carrying a fake wand. Hard to find one of such high quality, but we did. Instead of the Avada Kedavra curse, it knocks whoever it hit's unconscious... with a lot of pain of course, as Draco will tell you, I'm sure. We wanted to make it look realistic... But ...' said Voldemort, pausing to savoir the moment. 'You already knew that didn't you, Harry.' A look of ignorance flashed across Harry's dace. 'Come now, there is no use in lying to Lord Voldemort.'

Harry glanced frantically at the fire half. He needed to think of an answer, quick. 'No,' was all he could say, his voice wavering as the words left his mouth.

Voldemort's expression told Harry he knew he was lying. His every word seemed to ooze victory, yet, he still kept his wand firmly pointed at Harry, as if... as if he didn't know quite what to expect. But of what Harry feared was trued, surely he didn't need to. There was still fear there, in Voldemort's eyes, in the way he stood, always keeping Harry in his sight. Voldemort' red eyes darted to the burning embers of the fire. Lazily, he picked up a poker with his right hand, and moved them about.

'Tell me, Harry,' said Voldemort with his back turned—though Harry was sure the dark wizard craned his neck ever so slightly to keep Harry in his field of vision—as he continued his effort to relight the fire. With a wave of the wand, more flames burst from the ashes. 'What mark was you going to use to mark my death? Could it be your favourite, could it be the Duel?... Yes, that sounds like you, always predictable, Harry. Always finishing with the duel.... Not that I blame you, Harry. You have never been defeated before have you, duelling that is. But then again, you have only duelled your match once, and escaped a lucky escape.'

'You keep putting your inability to kill me down to luck,' said Harry defiantly. Though he was in no position to fight, he certainly wasn't going to let Voldemort toy with him; even as a boy he hadn't. He was not going to start now. 'Time and time again you have tried to kill me, Tom. Perhaps you can this time.'

'Kill him, my lord,' said Draco still kneeling at his masters robes. 'Show the world you are peerless by presenting his dead body to the community.'

'In my own time,' snarled Voldemort, kicking Draco away as you would a stray dog. [Authors note: I would now like to retract that last claim. The RSPCA has informed me if I do not, I can and will be taken to court. That is all.]

The other wizard fell awkwardly on his back almost cowering; a small splinter of cuts marking his cheek where he had been hit. 

'Yes, Harry,' said Voldemort, once again his crimson eye's locking with Harry's green. 'The Duel Mark, or was it? No, I don't believe it was. It was none other then the poison mark.'

The words hit Harry hard. Voldemort might very well have physically kicked him in a gut, it would have had no additional effect. Opening his mouth to answer, Harry found he had no voice left with which to speak, instead, he felt sick to the very core; his stomach convulsing bringing up waves of bile which he coughed up.

'Yes,' said Voldemort with a cruel smile. From his robes, the dark wizard produced a small bag of fine black powder. 'I know of the plan, Harry. Quite well thought out, place some "Newbury Death Powder" in the fire place, and when the fire stops... everyone in the room will be poisoned. Unless of course, you have a protection spell... Draco told me all about the plan, Harry. In fact, it was I who told him the plan. It was I who made him contact the resistance, pretend to be a spy. To lure you here, Harry.'

Harry swallowed a lump in his throat his eyes glazed over with fury and could feel himself physically shaking with anger; Draco had double crossed him. Ginny was probably dead. She had been right, they should have simply killed Voldemort, rather then try to capture him. So what if they would still be wanted by the Ministry, at least they'd still be alive to be wanted. Unrivalled hate pumped through his veins, coursing in every great amounts, he could feel his blood almost boiling with blind fury. For the first time in his life, Harry felt a greater hate for someone then even his hate for Voldemort. This time, it was hate of the double crossing, Draco Malfoy. He was going to die the same way his parents did, he was going to die because he'd trusted someone he shouldn't have. What had Snape once said? Harry would have died like his father, too arrogant to believe he'd wrong about someone... Was it true? Harry realised it couldn't be true, his father wasn't wrong about Black... But was Harry wrong about Malfoy?

'It's moments like this you savoir, Harry,' said Voldemort. 'Moment like these come but once a lifetime. It proves that I am the greatest. It shows that given a chance, people will chose to follow me, and not you. Draco here is loyal to me. Draco, give me your wand.'

'W-What?' gasped the fearful Death Eater, still laying awkwardly on the floor where Voldemort had kicked him. 'W-Why, my lord? Why do you want my wand?

'Do not question me, Draco,' warned Voldemort, his red eye's almost glowing with anger... or was it power.

'Sorry my lord,' spluttered Draco, scrambling to his feet and handing his wand over. 'It will never happen again.'

'That it will not, Draco,' said Voldemort with a grin. 'I do not let traitors live!'

'What,' said Draco, grasping at the rim of Voldemort's robes. 'Lord, please, you know I was not a traitor. You know, it was you plan... Your plan for me to be a spy...'

'You think me stupid, Draco? I am not,' hissed Voldemort. Once again the Dark Lord kicked Draco viciously away; blood ran not only down the side of the Death Eaters cheeks, but now from his nose. Voldemort switched his wand from Harry to Draco. 'I know you've been passing information other then that which I gave you to onto the Mudblood.'

Draco rose slowly, almost lazily to his feet, his dull grey eyes—exactly like his fathers—fixed on his masters wand. 'Well, I was wondering when you were going to call me on the matter,' he laughed taking his time to wipe away the blood pooling on the side of his face. With a proud smug of a grin, Draco backed away to where Harry stood, both waiting with baited breath for Voldemort to make his move. 

'I don't know how you planned to take me,' said Voldemort fiercely, his eye's flicking across the room, perhaps hoping to catch a glimpse of something that would allow him to understand their plan. The look of frustration he had when he once again looked at Draco told Harry he had found nothing. 'But I do know it won't work... _Crucio_,' he shouted. Light shot from the tip of his wand and struck Draco; the other wizard fell to the floor writing in pain. 'I will deal-' said Voldemort, swaying slightly. The dark wizard shook his head hoping to drive away the wave of dizziness that suddenly swam over him, that swarmed around inside. 'I will deal with you later, Draco. But you-' Again, the dark lord swayed where he stood. His vision obviously wavering, it came and went into focus; one second he was looking at Harry, the next he was starring into space. The dark wizard took one final look at Harry, and stumbled forward a few steps, his grip loosened on his wand as he concentrated instead on staying on two feet. 'No...' he choked his left leg giving in; he collapsed clumsily onto his knees. In such an old house it was a surprise that the impact didn't brake the wooden floor. The wand in his hand finally fell to the floor as his arm went limp. 'How-'

'That's what I'd like to know,' said Harry, offering his hand out to Draco. The man on the floor shook once more from the Cruciatus spell, and let Harry pull him to his feet, feeling battered and bruised. 'What's going on?' asked Harry looking as equally confused as Voldemort.

'Sorry for scaring you like that,' said Draco, though in reality he neither looked nor sounded sorry in the least. 'But Lord Voldemort is immune to Newbury Death Powder. I only found out a few hours ago. I didn't have time to tell you,' explained Draco. The blond man leant down grabbing both Harry's and his own wands from the floor where Lord Voldemort had dropped them. 'Here,' he said handing Harry's wand back receiving a quite 'Thanks' from Harry.

The former Death Eater brought his wand up and pointed it at Voldemort. Bang! Dozens of thin threads

were shot from the end of Draco's wand, twisting, almost like a living snake, around the Dark Lords ankles, wrists and mouth. Of course, it was just as well they weren't real snakes; even in the state he was, Voldemort was a Parsletongue and snakes would have less then no effect on the great wizard. Satisfied Voldemort wouldn't be going anywhere, Draco turned to face Harry.

'Just before I came in, I swallowed some Ravens-heath; a highly powerful, very potent magical ingredient. Knocks wizards out almost instantly, even in tiny doses, do you know of it?' Harry gave a vague nod and signalled for Draco to keep talking. 'Because I'd eaten some—because it was in my blood—just by breathing I would pass it into the air. I knew you were using the protection spell that would guard against the Newbury Death Powder, I trusted you would make it strong enough to guard against Ravens-heath, you are after all, the "Great Harry Potter,"' Harry ignored the sarcasm in Draco's voice, waiting quietly to hear the rest. 'Being a crow Animagi, I'm immune to it's effects; all members of the Corvine family are. I placed a binding spell around me, let the concentration of Ravens-heath in the air build up around me, release it in a concentrated burst; didn't want Voldemort to realise what was happening. He suspected me of being a real spy all along. I don't know if he knew I was giving you information though... But he knew I was a spy alright. Probably used me to lure you so he could finish us both off at the same time. I knew though, as soon as he cast a powerful enough spell on me, the binding spell would brake, and the Ravens-breadth was released into the room. 'Not immune to that are you, _master_,' said Draco in a mocking tone.

Voldemort though, was too far gone to fully process any of the words. His eye's had long since rolled into the back of his head, and his breathing grew more shallow by the second. Harry was surprised he was still on his knees and not already unconscious. He didn't have time to ponder that matter, a more important one arose in his mind.

'Where's Ginny?' said Harry, unable to hide the obvious fearful quivered in his voice.

'She's fine,' said Draco, his eye's starring holes in Voldemort. 'She's guarding Crabbe and Goyle. Having a bit of fun with some very nasty spells, I think... Didn't even need me, took them both down on her own.'

'Good,' said Harry coldly. Taking the ring off he threw it at Voldemort's knees. 'Plastic Muggle crap,' he hissed. Holding an almost identical looking ring in the air for a second to allow Draco, and if he were all there, Voldemort to see, Harry slipped it on. 'The Ring of the Sorcerer,' he laughed, his eyes changing to a deep black. 'The true Ring of the Sorcerer.'

Draco took a step back in shock; the ring that had been the shape of a lions head before—probably something to do with Gryffindor, no doubt—took on an almost liquid quality. It seemed to shimmer and ripple, the metal transfiguring on it's own accord; the lions great mane disappeared, it's snout drew back until it was no longer recognisable as a lion... It was now a skull. A skull with glowing, red, demonical eyes.

'Now we will find out just who is the greatest, Lord Voldemort,' Harry hissed, a deep booming voice. Raising his hand, Voldemort was suddenly yanked violently into the air, choking as he hung. It was almost as though someone wearing an invisibility cloak had picked the Dark Lord up by the neck. Voldemort brought his hands up in an attempt to clear his airways, attempting to fight the invisible hand that was crushing his throat, still under the effects of the Ravens-heath he wasn't having much luck. 'I promised myself I wouldn't kill you,' boomed Harry, flicking Draco—who had been trying to stop Harry from doing what he was—away with his wand, sending him flying across the room where he landed in a unconscious sprawl. 'Laughable really, that I truly believed I would have the willpower to stop myself. You were right, Tom, you do not control the power: The power controls you... The power controls me!'

With another flick of his hand, Voldemort was send careering into a wall so hard it left a crack in the decaying divide. Almost instantly, Voldemort was sent hurtling towards the wall the opposite end of the room, his body impacting limp against it.

A laugh escaped Harry's lips as he threw the Dark Lord against a third wall. 'Do you know what the power is saying to me now?' Harry chuckled. 'It's telling me to kill you... It's telling me to wake you from your slumber and kill you over and over... But once shall surface.'

'Harry, no,' Draco coughed sounding dazed and confused.

'And why not?'

'Because I won't let you,' Draco said quietly already knowing in reality there was nothing he could do. 'If we don't bring him in, do you really think they'll believe I helped? Do you really think people would be so stupid as to forgive Death Eaters a second time round? If you kill him... It's over for me.'

'Why should I care,' Harry spat though something in his eyes seemed to reflect differently. 'We'll tell the Ministry of your involvement,' he said, lowering the unconscious form of Voldemort to the floor.

'Do you really think they'd let you off either,' said Draco coolly as he stumbled towards Harry. 'If you kill him, you'll have nothing to bargain with. Do you really think that killing a unconscious Voldemort will prove you are the better wizard, because in that condition... even a Muggle could kill him. Killing will prove nothing, and it'll seal your fate. Don't kill him Harry.'

Harry's eyes widened in shock; was Draco talking about just killing Voldemort or was he talking about something else? Could Draco know? No, it wouldn't work, Harry was going to have his vengeance. 'I don't need anything to bargain with,' he hissed once again dangling Voldemort in the air. 'I don't care! I'm going to take my revenge, whether it proves I'm the better or not, it doesn't matter.'

'What about Ginny?' Draco said smugly. Seeing Harry flinch he knew he'd found the mark. 'You may not care if you live your life running from the Ministry, but do you think that's what Ginny wants?' Harry's mouth opened to protest but Draco cut him off. 'Oh, she'll follow you if you done so. She'll always follow the great Harry Potter. She'd follow you to the end of the earth. But is that what you want for her? Are you going to let her life fall away one piece, one day at a time, because of your vendetta, Harry? Was Voldemort right in everything he said about you?'

Harry stood watching Draco for the longest time, a deadly quite between them. The only sounds were the deep rhythmic breathing of Voldemort and the more unsteady breathing of the two other wizards. 'Alright,' he finally conceded. Bracing for pain, he let the ring fall to the ground with a clatter, his eye's returning to their vibrant green. 'Bring Voldemort, cover him in this,' he said slowly, recovering from the pain of once again loosing the connection. Harry threw Draco the invisibility cloak, then with a swish of his wand, the ring flew into his grip. 'We have to get Voldemort in, before the effects wear off.'

'What about Crabbe and Goyle?' said Draco as he draped the cloak over the Dark Lord, and muttered a spell that made the wizard float. 'What do we do with them?'

'Tie them up and leave them where they are,' said Harry walking to the door with Draco in pursuit, pulling the invisible Lord Voldemort with him. 'We can send people to get them later, right now we have to get Voldemort somewhere secure.'

'The ministry of Magic?' said Draco just as they reached the door.

'I'm not sure,' said Harry, narrowing his eye's as he searched for Ginny. 'Where is she?' A sigh of relief escaped from his throat, it felt as though he were breathing for the first time, as though a—cliched—great weight lifted from his chest when Ginny appeared at the door of the smaller building, next to the mansion with an equally anxious look of her own.

'Where's Voldemort?' Already having some idea her eyes searched the air around Harry and Draco.

'Yeah, he's here, under the cloak,' said Harry, pointing at nothing, well, at least nothing they could see. 'And Crabbe and Goyle?'

'Inside,' said Ginny, nodding to the small building. 'I have a feeling they wont be going anywhere in a long time. They won't wake up for hours, and when they do, it'll be a miracle if they ever escaped.'

'Good,' said Draco and Harry together.

'Well,' said Harry uncertainly, watching Ginny with mixed emotions.

'Well,' Ginny replied, but having nothing further to say left it at that.

'Well,' added Draco, not sure whether to say anything; his fellow wizards seemed on the verge of something important. Then again, what did he care. 'When you two are finished, we better get him somewhere secure. I'm sure, now that you've defeated Voldemort, you'll want to get back in the limelight, Potter!' And with that, he began walking down the winding path that led to the village at the bottom of the hill.

'I don't care what you say, I don't think he likes you,' Ginny laughed as they took off after him.

Harry fought the urge not to laugh; not when he had something important to say. 'As long as I have you,' he said, not daring to look at Ginny. 'I don't care if no one else in the world likes me.'

'You'll always have me,' said Ginny sincerely, long since past blushing.

Harry smiled feebly, butterfly's once again attacking his stomach. This was the moment he would tell Ginny... He would tell her how he felt and face the consequences. 'Gin.'

'Are you coming, or what?' Draco shouted.

'Damn it, Malfoy,' Harry cursed under his breath.

*

'Harry... Ginny,' Ron called from across the street where he had been waiting for over an hour. Crossing the road in a mad dash he didn't worry about the cars; not that he would need to in such a small village, and this early in the day. Almost colliding with her, Ron hugged his sister, with visible relief.

'Harry,' he said again, finally letting Ginny go. 'What's going on? Have you gone to... to...' He struggled to say what he knew had happened ending up just gesturing with his hands, hoping to get across his points.

'Yeah, Voldemort's though,' said Ginny calmly. Ron hugged her with even more relief, a hug that was verging on suffocation. 

'W-Where is he?' Ron asked in a panic. 'Is he dead?'

'He's not dead,' said Harry, ignoring the look of shock on Ron's face; the red-headed Wizards mouth falling open. 'He's with Draco.'

For the first time, Ron noticed Draco Malfoy standing a few feet away, holding his hands out as though he were miming. Miming holding something still; which Draco seemed awfully good at. A look of hatred over took Ron changing from the obvious look of relief moments earlier. 'What are you doing here,' he said, almost spitting the words.

'Doing a lot more then you ever will, Weasley,' retorted Draco, 'in helping to take down Voldemort.'

'You! A Death Eater,' said Ron, now disbelief mixed with his hatred, pointing his fingers to accent "Death Eater". 'Help take down Voldemort? I don't believe it for a minute... You probably have a plan,' he said pushing past Harry and Ginny to where Draco stood. Extending his arms in a zombie fashion, he felt around clumsily, shocked when he did indeed find a solid object floating mid-air, and even more shocked when he pulled back the invisibility cloak to reveal the unconscious face of Lord Voldemort.

'Yes, Weasley,' sneered Draco snatching the invisibility cloak away from Ron and covering Voldemort back up. 'I have a secret plan to take Voldemort for a walk while he sleeps... he's getting lazy in his old age, but alas, you've foiled my plans.'

'I wouldn't trust him as far as I could throw him,' Ron said to Harry, talking as though Draco wasn't there. 'Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater is what I say.'

Harry went to say something, but was cut off by Draco, who's tone had become as cold as Ron's. 'You know your problem, Weasley,' he drawled. 

'No, but I'm sure your going to tell me,' snapped Ron. 'You always liked the sound of your own voice.'

'You're jealous.' At Ron's indignant snort, Draco continued, 'Jealous and suspicious. You blame me for your brake up with the Mudblood-'

'Watch your tongue,' Ron warned diving at Draco. It was only the fact that Ginny interceded; holding them back with a swish of her wand that they didn't come to blows. 

Seeing a look of warning flash across both Harry and Ginny's face Draco added, '-With Hermione then, there, you happy?—' 

'I'll never be happy the presence of a Death Eater,' muttered Ron, but Draco seemed to pay him no attention, instead he was talking himself. 

'—If you hadn't of been so possessive, you'd probably still be with her, you do know that don't you Weasley? But no, you had to start fights with her, and why? Because she was meeting _me_ and passing information I provided her onto Dumbledore.'

'We should really-' Ginny tried.

'You don't know what you're talking about,' Ron seethed, completely ignoring his sisters protests. 'It just so happens Hermione's accepted my offer of dinner, she's admitted she still has feelings for me... Now you keep to your own business. And believe me, there will be a lot of business coming to you—a Death Eater—now that Voldemort is defeated.'

'RON, DRACO' shouted Harry, his face red with anger. 'Enough of this childish bickering. I need you two to work together. I need you to both take Voldemort to Hermione, she'll take you to Dumbledore.'

'What-' Ron said indignantly.

'I'm not working with him,' said Malfoy.

Ginny looked at them, a silent presence to her. 'Then if Voldemort escapes, it'll be on you heads.'

The group stood in silence for a minute, Ron finally muttering, 'Alright, but you have to tell me a few things first' and Draco spat an, 'Okay.'

'Good! Ginny, you go with them.' Seeing the protesting look on her face, Harry leant in to whisper. 'Trust me... And don't tell anyone anything yet.' Shakily, almost backing out at the last minute, he brought his lips to her own, kissing her with all the passion he had with, and angry, explosive kiss, passion that had been building for years now, but which he dared not show through fear of loosing what he already had with her. She happily returned the gesture with extra. 'We'll talk when I get back, Gin...'

Both seemed taken back by the statement. Neither Harry or Ginny believing one of them had the guts to "talk" it though. They had never talked it through in the past, anything that happened was always forgotten the next day, and unspoken agreement that they didn't talk about the relationship they had. It was their safety net, as long as they didn't talk about it, they didn't have to risk what they had; after all, they were alone in the world, they couldn't risk being split. The safety net had just been yanked away; Harry had admitted there was something to talk about.

'Ron,' Harry said, visibly shaking. Ron, Harry's best friend, who Harry hoped to be friends with once again followed him to one side. 'What did you want to know?'

'What the hell is going on?' said Ron angrily, keeping one eye on Draco, Ginny and where Voldemort was. 'I get a message from an owl-' Pulling out a small slip of paper he showed it to Harry; the Auror didn't need to read it to know what it said:

__

Ron, don't wait for the second mark,

Follow Lupin instead!

'-That you sent that, right?' said Ron, continuing once he received a nod of confirmation from Harry. 'Well, I arrive at the first mark, to find Lucius. Shaken, injured and immobilised, but not dead!' Ron's tone bordered on disbelief, outrage even that Harry hadn't killed Lucius. 'Plus, there was no sigh of an innocent wizard that had fallen in taking Lucius out!' 

'The "innocent" was Draco,' Harry said briefly. 'We had to fool Wormtail into believing he was dead.'

'Yes, Wormtail,' said Ron leading onto the next question. 'I finally figured out the message you sent, and follow a group of werewolves. We got to Wormtail just in time; they'd already begun grouping on him.' Again, Ron's voice wavered in disbelief that Harry would send a message that could save Wormtail's life. 'Then, I get the map, telling me to come here, and find,' Ron's voice almost became as squeak as he continued, 'that you've captured You-Know-Who. CAPTURED!... What the hell is going on, Harry?'

'There's no time to explain all that right now, Ron' said Harry. 'But I'll tell you everything later, I promise. Now, I need to know something: Was it you who sent me the owl, telling me Death Eaters might be staying in or around Hogwarts?'

'No,' said Ron categorically denying Harry's question. 'I think it was a trap, Harry. I've been trying to warn you—that's why I asked to be in the Taskforce, well, one of the reasons—I think it was someone else within the Ministry. I think they were trying to lure you here.'

'Thank you,' said Harry with a grin. 'That's just what I wanted to know; just what I thought... Thanks Ron... Oh, and congratulations about Hermione; see if you can make it work this time, I've never been to a wedding before.'

'Thanks, I will,' said Ron seriously. 'I'm not going to screw up another chance with the woman I love... So,' said Ron, changing the topic, 'Where you going?'

'To catch a rat bigger then Wormtail himself.'

'Oh, Ron, just one more thing.'

'Anything.'

'What's the password to Hermione's office?'

'Westminster.' Ron thought nothing more of it.

****

End Chapter 8¾Duels, Poisons and Draco Malfoy.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.


	9. Death Eaters in the Ministry.

Dark Marks, Orders and Auror's chapter 9 (Last chapter).

Death Eaters in the Ministry.

By 100 monkey's typing on 100 keyboards for 100 years.

Beta read by just ten of those monkey's: only the select few.

Proof read by Chris.

Summary: With the defeat of Voldemort, Harry has one final matter to deal with. Returning to the Ministry of Magic for the first time since "the incident" he has scores to settle, and revenge on mind. Can Harry truly ever return to his old self after everything he's done? *Final chapter* H/G, R/Hr.

Extended thanks at the end...

Chapter 9

Death Eaters in the Ministry.

Harry found himself in front of the Ministry of Magic building, having apparated a few miles away; he felt a walk would ease his mind, help him fine tune the plan that little bit more. The scene that greeted him was pure chaos. People running around, bumping into each other, and not even bothering to try and disguise what they were wearing, even clueless Muggles were starting to notice.

Something, and Harry had more then a sneaking suspicion what, had caused the building to become frantic in it's operation, and this was just on the outside. He dare not imagine what the scene would be like inside the Ministry building itself.

Stepping into the five story office block, using the revolving Muggle doors—which he had once seen Ron get stuck in; his friend kept walking around and around, afraid that if he stopped something bad would happen, though, to this day, Harry still couldn't imagine what that might be—he found himself in a large hall that he knew for sure was biggest room in the entire building. Though it was one of the largest, it was also one the most bland and bare rooms as well. Straight ahead of him was a glass-windowed lift that took you to the rest of the building. To the far left hand side was a door which, if his memory served him correctly, took you to genuine Muggle-decorated rooms. These "office rooms" were used as cover; should any Muggle accidentally find themselves—for whatever reason—inside the building, they would most certainly find nothing out of the ordinary... except perhaps that at that very moment, a mop was gliding along the carpet-less floor apparently of it's own accord. Next to door that lead to the Muggle offices another plane wooden door stood. The second door Harry knew lead to a cloak room where many of the wizards stored there clothes, and, where there were more then a few spare Ministry uniforms.

Combing his dark hair down around his scar, Harry made his way to a skinny brunette security guard whom had obviously dressed in what they would consider to be Muggle clothing. Harry had to hand it to the guard; they had done a pretty good job... if she'd been trying to dress as a Muggle from the eighties that is. Giving her a nod as he approached, and with a beckoning motion, Harry indicated that Muggles tended not to have self-cleaning mops.

With a look of horror, the guard suddenly realised that the mop was cleaning the floor on its own, and ran off in an attempt to stop it; but, it seemed the mop didn't like being interrupted, and, with a shudder, took off at great speed across the floor, the security guard hanging on for dear life behind. Now that the security guard was busy fighting with the runaway mop, Harry quickly made his way to the cloak room, and grabbed any set of clothes there; in this case a bowler had, and a black and white pinstripe suit with the "Wando" designer label. Though the suit was a bit big for him, it was more then ample for what Harry needed; the most important feature, the bowler hat, covered his noticeably dark hair, and lightning bolt shaped scar completely.

Returning to the fist room, Harry noticed the security guard wasn't having much luck and was now chasing the cleaning device across the room, waving a broom in the air threateningly.

Closing the lift doors, Harry left behind the security guards angry shouts of, 'You stupid broom... I'll teach you some manners,' and hasty of additions of, 'Remote controlled broom!' every time someone walked passed, should they be a Muggle. 

Harry took out his wand swishing it in the air he then tapped it against the dials and said, '_Rivvo_.' As if it were alive, the lift jumped as soon as the words rang out travelling at an alarming speed upwards; Harry felt himself pushed by an invisible force down. The lift's initial upwards motion changed to that of sideways, and then back and forth, again up and down, and in general, every other direction possible; much the same as if one were travelling in a maze and didn't quite know which way to go. Five minutes later, a whiter looking Harry exited the lift, stumbling slightly into the room in front, his legs jelly like legs once again getting used to solid ground.

If outside could be considered busy, then inside was surely sheer chaos with the frantic actions of the wizards. Although the room itself was large, only a little smaller then the downstairs reception (or upstairs, or possibly to the right... or left. The lift really didn't seem to know where it was at all.), the sheer numbers of wizards and witches inside seemed to shrink the room significantly. What's more, everyone seemed on the verge of panic and most were frantically rushing about in an attempt to do what the had to. A few feet to Harry's left, two wizards who were obviously on edge—under far too much stress—were pointing their wands at each other in a typical duel fashion, whilst all around them work colleagues gathered attempting to pacify the situation and calm the frail nerves. What made the panic seem so much more though, were the owls. Hundreds of them, for every colour you could ever imagine there was an owl. Harry hadn't seen so many owls in a single place for a long time; not since his last year at Hogwarts where, during breakfast, they would swarm in like a plague of locusts delivering messages, letters, parcels and of course the occasional Howler. This room though as big as it was, was nowhere near the size of the Great Hall and was clearly incapable of dealing with the birds in such numbers. The owls had nowhere to fly, many collided midair after they took off, whilst others flew straight into desks, objects and people... as Harry found out when a great eagle owl collided with his head, the massive bird knocking Harry the ground with a mouth full of feathers.

Continuing—more warily now—Harry passed hundreds more doors, some of which had brass plates stating such things as, 'Goblin control' and 'Dangerous Magical Creatures.' On his way through the building, Harry had to dodge several more owls, and barley managed to duck a set of Bludger balls that had escaped during the commotion. At long last, Harry found himself at the set of stairs which lead to the Ministers office.

As he made his way up the steps though, a wizard—whose face was hidden by a stack of papers in her arms—came shooting out of an office careering straight into Harry. Both tumbled down the stairs, Harry coming of worse as the... witch (he now realised) landed straight on top of him, after using him as a sledge that is.

The witch gave a squeal of panic when documents she'd been carrying fluttered to the floor; it was seemingly raining paper. 'Oh no, what have I done!' In a panic she scrambled—completely forgetting about Harry—to pick up the papers. 'I'm in so much trouble now!'

After the tumble, Harry felt almost as dazed as when he'd left the lift, only this time he had a splitting headache as well. 

'Oh, no, no, no...'

Harry struggled to his feet, surprised to see the witch he'd collided with couldn't have been older then nineteen; probably straight out of Hogwarts, she could be a junior in Ministry at the most. And it appeared that was all she'd ever be; the documents must be very important the way she was going on. Though his headache told him she deserved it, Harry drew his wand. 'Stand back.' Pulling the bowler hat over his face further he shifted uncomfortably where he stood. 

The witch did as she was told standing to her feet without even a second glance at Harry; which he was thankful for. 

Harry coughed and, in what was quite clearly an attempt to disguise his voice, said, '_Returnus_.' Instantly, all the papers flew into the air, arranging themselves into a neat pile on the floor, reminding Harry of the times he'd seen Dudley use a remote control to rewind a video to watch his favourite part over and over again. This time the papers were wrapped up in none-stick Spell-O-Tape so they wouldn't go flying everywhere again.

The witch grabbed the papers with a half smile. 'Thanks,' she said as she took off. 

'Wait,' Harry shouted at her retreating form. Once again he pulled the hat further down; now so much so it had begun to interfere with his vision. 'What's going on around here? Why is everyone so panicked?'

'What's going on around here!' said the witch dumbstruck, her mouth gapping in disbelief. 'Where have you been? A third Mark was seen the other side of the country, it means You-Know-Who has been killed... if it's true.'

'Hmmm,' said Harry thoughtfully. 'Looks like Harry and Ginny got him then!'

'Yeah,' said the witch leaning forward. 'Just between you and me they deserves some kind of medal. Forget about what Harry Potters done in the past, you know this is the second time he's defeated You-know-Who?... Only-'

Harry leant forward, and was so close he could almost touch her. 'Only what?' he whispered. 

'Well, someone in the Taskforce has gone missing... I heard some senior Minister members talking about it; Ron. Ron Weasley.'

'Ron? He'll probably turn up, it's just like Ron Weasley to go missing' Harry reassured. 'Best you take those papers to where they have to be, then.'

'Yeah,' said the witch remembering the pile of papers and taking off. 'Bye.'

Harry glanced at her wand, carefully examining it. 'Yeah, bye,' he shouted as she disappeared around the corner. 'And I thought I'd need the invisibility cloak!'

The door that opened into Ministers office was somewhat larger then other doors. In the place of the usual brass knockers and plaques, was a glistening silver one, above which the Ministry logo was etched into a second silver plate. Next to the Ministry logo, a wand scanner—a tiny black cube—was positioned on the door.

Using the stolen wand, Harry placed it into the scanner. He performed a simple spell and a few red sparks erupted from the wand; though nothing like the sparks you'd get from using your own wand. The door took a while to check the wand, then with a brief hesitation let Harry in. No one would know he'd ever entered the building; they would see only that whoever the young witch was, had visited the Minister and assume it to be to ask advice for her future or something similar... though it could start a scandal as well!

The room was nothing like what Harry expected. In the middle of the room was a new, but not overly magnificent desk; compared to Hermione's it was very bland. Behind the mahogany desk, a small shelf of the same decor held just a handful of books. Apart from the occasional interesting magic device scattered about here or there, there was nothing exceptional about the room whatsoever. There was definitely nothing to suggest that the Minister of Magic of all people used this as an office. For a start there were almost no souvenirs, and Harry knew for a fact the Minister of Magic was one of the most widely travelled people in the entire community. Then again, if he were so well travelled then he needn't worry about having such a small drab office. Most noticeably though was the room was empty of human life.

'Damn, where is he,' said Harry, angrily. 'I really need to speak to him.'

Harry took a seat in one of only two chairs within the room, and turned it to face away from the door. Whilst waiting for the Minister to arrive, Harry read through that day's edition of the Daily Prophet to pass the time. As he reached the last page, some half an hour later, a muddled patter of feet echoed down the hall. Someone had reached the top of the stairs and was heading straight for the office.

...TAP... tap, TAP... tap, TAP...

The sound drew nearer; an odd patter to say the least. The large pause between steps and the difference in the weights of alternating steps signified a limp. This meant the person approaching was who Harry was here to see, the Minister himself: Cornelius Fudge.

The sounds grew louder and nearer. Harry listened carefully for any additional patter... there were none; Cornelius was most definitely alone. A few seconds later and Harry heard a few muttered words just the other side of the door, signifying the wand scanner was being used. With a quite clicking sound the door swung open and was immediately followed by the telltale click of it closing.

'Cornelius!'

The Minister looked no different to when Harry had last seen him, years ago... The time he'd killed the three 'innocent' Ministry Wizards. His suit was much the same as the one Harry wore, except it was a shocking blue with white pin stripes, and it fitted the Minister a damn site better then the clothes Harry had borrowed fitted him. Cornelius was looking rather pale though, with definite bags under his blue eyes due to the many sleepless nights he had; he was bordering on insomnia. Harry could see the shocked look on the other mans face as tiny beads of sweat appeared on his forehead—which the Minister quickly rubbed away with a handkerchief held in a clammy grip. 

Cornelius walked nervously further into the office. 'H-Harry,' he said. 'What-'

Harry glanced up at the Minister offering a polite smile. 'I've taken care of Voldemort,' he said, still apparently reading the Daily Prophet.

'So it appears,' said Fudge, once again patting the handkerchief to his forehead. 'We haven't found him though.'

Harry smiled again. 'Trust me, he's taken care of.'

'I... I suppose you'll want a pardon?' Cornelius grabbed at a black piece of parchment, muttering nervously all the while. 'Yes, yes... That is what you want. A pardon!... I can do that, Harry. For someone who took down the... Dark Lord... Our community can overlook a few... In-discrepancies, I'm sure.' Fudge ran his hands over his pockets nervously. 'If I can find a quill... Where is that quill... I'll dismiss the Taskforce at once, Harry.'

Harry went back to reading an article in the Daily Prophet. 'Don't forget Ginny,' he said quickly. 'They seemed to be after her as much as me.'

Another bead of sweat appeared on the Ministers head, but he'd given up attempting to wipe away. 'Yes... Of course, Ginny will be pardoned most certainly... and on behalf of the Wizarding world,' he stuttered. 'I want to thank you for ending the dark campaign off-'

'You know what,' Harry said suddenly, cutting the Ministers speech off abruptly. His eye's finally left the paper, the green orbs staring at Cornelius instead. 'I don't think we'll be needing that pardon after all.'

The Minister nearly dropped the quill he'd found. 'W-What?' said Fudge. 'But... Harry... What?.. W-Why ever not?'

'I'm tired of playing games Cornelius. I should just kill you now, where you stand!'

Cornelius eyes bulged in shock. 'Then you'd be hunted for the rest of your life, Harry,' he replied, managing to sound indignant despite his obvious fear of Harry. 'Killing the Minister... you wouldn't make it out of this building.'

Harry got slowly to his feet. 'I did once before,' he said neatly folding the newspaper and placing it on the desk. 'Do you remember that?'

'I... Yes,' squeaked Fudge. 'But... But y-you had help... Take the pardon Harry...'

Harry lashed out, knocking the paper to the floor, he shouted, 'It's worthless.' Lowering his voice he said, 'Not when there are still hundreds out there that fear me like...' And angry snort escaped his lips. 'Like they fear Voldemort. How can they ever be that scared of me?

'I don't know why I didn't realise what you were sooner, Fudge,' Harry spat with so much venom laced in his voice, the Minister visibly shrank back.

'I-I... I don't know what you mean,' said Fudge. The Minister attempted to compose himself and feeling particularly brave, said, 'Now I suggest you leave, Harry Potter, or I shall have the Dementors take you!'

Harry gave a nod, laughing indignantly. 'Yes, the Dementors. They were your biggest mistake-'

'I don't know what you're talking about,' said Fudge, struggling to keep a composed stature. 'Now I will not warn you again, take your pardon and go...'

'-I realised a few years ago,' Harry continued. Pulling out his wand he pointed it at Cornelius, ordering, 'Sit down.' 

The Minister sat abruptly on the spare seat.

'Your wand, give it to me.'

'My, my wand?'

'Give it to me,' Harry hissed. 'And don't try anything stupid Fudge, I'm ten times faster on the draw then you.'

Cornelius slowly drew his wand from a pocket on the inside of his suit and gave it to Harry.

Gripping the wand tightly, Harry bent it until he heard the shatter, and though Cornelius looked outraged, he didn't make a sound. 

'Tell me this,' said Harry as he dropped the two halves of Cornelius's wand to the floor. 'When Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban, were you worried about me?'

'Yes, of course the whole world wa-' Fudge began, but the wizard stopped abruptly when slammed his hands to the desk.

'Or did you realise that he was going after someone else? You realised that Peter Pettrigrew must still be alive didn't you-' Harry ignored Fudge's indignant responses, and continued undaunted, '-You were worried that if Peter were to be caught, he might point the finger at you! He might have once seen you in Voldemort's company, and you couldn't take that risk. That's why you were so adamant about catching Black. So that Peter wouldn't resurface.'

Fudges head darted round as Harry continued to circle him as a lion does it's prey. 'You don't know what you're talking about,' said Fudge. The Minister dare not move though.

'And next...' said Harry; he held up two of his fingers. 'Next there was your refusal to believe Voldemort had returned to power again. For years you denied it, kept things quite, even went so far as to keep the news from the papers. You refused to help Dumbledore stop him from gaining control... I, along with everyone else that knew, though you merely in denial, that you truly believed it was better the world didn't know. That you truly believed Voldemort was dead.'

'It's true,' said Fudge as he stood up abruptly in defiance. 'I don't know what you're implying here, but I don't like it... You-' Fudge paused to tear up the paper on which he had written Harry and Ginny's "Pardon." '-Can forget about the pardon, now. I have never been so insu-'

'Sit down,' said Harry who waved his wand at Cornelius. The Minister collapsed—against his will—into the chair giving out a high squeal; he finally realised Harry was quite prepared to use magic on him. 'Then, when you do finally acknowledge Voldemort's return, you suddenly decide that you could do things better without Dumbledore. As if you could do better without the only man Voldemort feared the last time he was in power. The Ministry, on your order, breaks away from the resistance, and now those who oppose Voldemort have split... United under Dumbledore we stand, divided, Voldemort rules!'

'This is the biggest nonsense I have ever heard,' Fudge declared.

'Then we have clue number four,' said Harry, pausing calmly before adding, 'The Dementors! Why?... Why, Cornelius, did a few Dementors stay with you, when surely, everything about them, their very nature suggests they should join Voldemort?'

Fudge squirmed under Harry's gaze. 'They could probably see that Voldemort wouldn't win,' he said, sounding unsure. 'They knew if they joined Voldemort and he fell a second time, they would be destroyed!'

Harry chuckled at Cornelius's excuse, almost mocking. 'No, they stayed, because you were too much of a coward to act alone,' Harry accused, his green eyes boring holes in the Minister. 'You wanted to know, you wanted to be sure that if you were found out you would have a chance to flee to your master; the Dementors would buy you that time... I'm surprised Lord Voldemort let you keep them though, it was a mistake on his part; a big giveaway.'

'What else do we have...' Harry drawled... 'Oh yes, this whole mess involving those Ministry Wizards I killed.' Harry flashed Cornelius and angry glare. 'You know, I actually believed they were spies at one point. I actually believed your lies, Fudge. I believed I had killed innocent Wizards, you do not know what that done to me... How much that hurt... IT RUINED MY LIFE!' he screamed, an audible whimper escaped the Minister. 'I even admitted it to my friends, that I, Harry Potter had taken innocent lives... They were disgusted, and so they should be... Have you any idea what it feels like to believe you've killed someone innocent? Do you have even the slightest clue what that done to me... Well, maybe you do, because they're deaths are on your head as well.'

'I... I... I...' Cornelius seemed to be beyond words.

'But fortunately, they were not innocent, were they? What did you say in the papers? "These Wizards were as dedicated to stopping the rein of terror of Voldemort as myself"'

Fudge finally seemed to find his voice; it was a feeble attempt at outrage. 'Have you know respect for the dead? Kill them, and then drag their names through the dirt years later... Do you know how much your accusations hurt their families the first time round?'

'I'm afraid I can't feel too sorry for families that follow the murderer of my parents,' said Harry calmly. 'Now then, need I go on, Cornelius? The spells that didn't work, those that were supposed to keep me from setting foot in many places, they were all lies... Ready to lead me into Voldemort's trap... Do you admit to being a Death Eater?'

'I most certainly do not. Why, I'll see you're taken to the Dementors for sure now.'

'You are in no position to make threats,' said Harry. The auror ran his wand across Fudge's face to emphasis this point. 'Now show me your arm.'

Fudge hesitated but extended a shaky arm when Harry's wand was pressed harder against his neck. 

Harry pulled back the stripped sleeve, nearly punching the table after he done so. 'Nothing!' With a hint of desperation he pulled the Ministers arm in all directions before he finally let go. 'Your other arm. Show me your other arm.'

'Well now see here. This is getting out of hand.'

Harry took a deep breath, his voice became dangerously quite. 'Show - Me - Your - Other - Arm - Now!' he said, emphasising each word in turn. 

The Minister once again held out and arm, this time his left, still shaking like a leaf; his face, paler then any ghost Harry had ever seen. Slowly, Harry, shaking himself, peeled back the material. 'NOTHING!' he shouted out furiously, no longer caring if anyone heard him. Taking a step back he pointed his wand threateningly at Fudge. 'I'll kill you here!'

'Harry, no!' came a calm voice from behind Harry. A voice of reason, the voice of someone Harry respected above all others; the voice of a true hero. In his resolve at proving Cornelius a Death Eater, Harry hadn't heard the group of people approaching the office, nor had he heard them use the scanner.

'Dumbledore, thank god,' gasped Fudge, obviously relieved. 'He's gone mad. Stark raving mad!'

'He's a Death Eater,' said Harry, his wand trained on Fudge.

'Nonsense,' said Fudge. Slowly and warily, so as not to provoke Harry, the minister got up and limped towards Dumbledore. 'Harry, I would be only to happy to pardon you, as I'm sure the entire wizard world would want. Just... Just don't point that thing at me. I can understand you are a little... confused after your ordeal with You-Know-Who.'

Harry didn't move, positioning his body to stop Cornelius limping past, he spat, 'Sit down.' 

Fudge looked pleadingly at Dumbledore. 

The aging Wizard stared down through his crooked nose at the Minister; his deep blue eyes through half-moon spectacles gazing calculatingly. Harry had seen that same look a very many times before; it was the look that felt as though the wizard were staring straight into your soul. 'Cornelius,' he said calmly through his long white beard; the white hairs twitching. 'How is your leg feeling this day?'

'No better then usual.' The Minister looked obviously perplexed.

'And have you been using the medicine I have Poppy send you?' said Dumbledore, his eye's flicking to Harry, trying to tell him something. But what?

'Yes,' said Cornelius, scratching his head in confusion. 'Every day, but I'm afraid it is no better... Now, can we all settle this-' He glanced particularly at Harry. '-because I have much business to attend to... Here,' he said as he held out another piece of paper for Harry.

Dumbledore once again glanced at Harry. 'Then perhaps if you would allow me to take a look at your foot,' he said calmly. 'I have been brushing up on healing none-fatal curses lately... and we do have the one who cursed you with us. Why, we may be able to heal it completely.'

The minister jumped to his feet. 'No,' he said all too quickly. 'That won't be necessary... I have to introduce some new security measures.'

'Yes, I suppose you have,' said Dumbledore. 'Those Dark Mark detectors won't do much good now Voldemort had been captured.' 

Harry's eyes flickered to Cornelius who had once again gotten to his feet and was limping towards him... Could it be?

The minister winced slightly at the mention of Voldemort and tried once more to get past Harry; this time successfully.

'Wait,' said Harry, suddenly; Cornelius froze in his tracks. 'Fudge, if you would be so kind as to let me heal you... I insist. You've pardoned me, it's the least I can do!'

Fudge shook his head. 'No, no, that really won't-'

Suddenly, a sound erupted throughout the room and as far as anyone could guess the rest of the Ministry headquarters. It was as though a large voltage had discharged threw a very large dragon; a high-pitched screech followed by an angry roar. The sound was so loud, it seemed to pierce everyone. Harry himself jumped in shock and quickly brought his hands to cover his ears. Cornelius reaction though was much more severe. The minister was already nervous and on edge due to his encounter with Harry, and the noise had taken him by surprise causing him to slip and fall. The minister stumbled forward in an attempt to keep his bearings but in the end crashed to the ground with a loud thump, landing awkwardly on his supposed bad leg without so much as a wince. Then, using both legs equally he scrambled to his feet; only when he was up did he remember to start limping.

'Well, I best be off...' said Fudge creeping past Harry and Dumbledore.

'Stupefy,' two matching shouts rang out in the room creating an almost stereo effect. Both Harry and Dumbledore had sent identical spells Cornelius's way with alarming results. Cornelius was sent hurtling through the air landing some twenty feet at the end of the corridor where he lay still and most certainly unconscious.

A brief flash of red hair signalled Ginny was also there, and next to her, Hermione stood still wearing a robe with the Hogwarts coat-of-arms. Both women had already gone to collect the form of Cornelius—not bothering to use magic, the simply grabbed one leg each looking completely disgusted and begun to drag him back—at that moment Ron appeared at the end of the corridor.

'What are you all doing here,' said Harry quietly.

'We came as soon as Ron told us about you,' said Hermione.

'I think Dumbledore already knew about Fudge,' said Ron, looking at Dumbledore for confirmation.

'I figured it out last week,' said Dumbledore. The ex-Hogwarts headmaster closed the door behind them and signalled for Hermione and Ginny to put Fudge down, where he tapped the unconscious Fudge with his wand; the Ministers shoe immediately fell of to the ground, its laces untying themselves. 'Ron got to me word of some very interesting news. News you probably didn't have access too, Harry.'

'Which was?' Harry asked politely.

'That Fudge's leg suddenly got better.' 

'I don't understand...'

'It just so happened at the same time the Dark Mark scanners broke down. I didn't think anything of it though; at the same time I'd had Poppy make up a batch of medicine that healed the majority of leg-injuries, it could very well have been that. But I thought it more then strange that as soon as they were back and working, his leg became just as bad as ever.'

Harry laughed, 'Not very good at acting then.'

'Oh, he was very good at acting... He fooled us all for years. We were just lucky that Mr. Weasley could tell the difference between real pain, and a fake limp.' 

Ron blushed. 'It was nothing.' Hermione shot him a sidelong glance, and Harry only then realised how close they were standing... doesn't look like Ron wasted much time.

'Unfortunately, Harry,' said Dumbledore with a note of regret. 'Cornelius here has been very busy this week, as he has been every week since the Dark Mark scanners went up; always flying off to one place or another... it was easier in his younger days, but I believe the pain is starting to get to him of late. He's been so busy though—what with word of your arrival, Harry—I regret to say, I was unable to confirm my suspicions earlier.'

One final tap of Dumbledore's wand, and Fudge's sock slithered off like a snake, to reveal a bare foot. The dark green skull stood out against the pink-peach of flesh; it was the Dark Mark. Cornelius Fudge was as Death Eater.

'But as soon as I heard—and saw—you'd defeated Voldemort, I knew Cornelius would have to return,' Dumbledore continued, not batting an eyelid when he saw the Dark Mark. 'Well, I knew this would be my chance to find out for sure. I came at once; we all did, Harry. I had Ron shut of the Death Mark detectors—that was the noise you heard—to catch Fudge in the act... I had to know for sure that he was a Death Eater. I can't go around accusing the Minister if I didn't know for sure... That's why I didn't stop him straight away, you understand Harry?'

Harry gave a nod of understanding and stood up. 'Of course, all that matters is we caught this piece of filth.'

'So... So,' said Hermione in an almost pleading tone. Her eyes fixed squarely at Harry, and, the very quite Ginny who stood next to him... _as Ron stood next to Hermione_, Harry couldn't help think or of course smile happily. 

'Does this mean you didn't kill all those people? You didn't do all those horrible things?' said Hermione.

Harry glanced out of the corner of his eye at Ginny, then to Dumbledore, hoping the ageing wizard didn't say anything. 'No,' he finally said, all trace of emotion gone from his voice.

Dumbledore's penetrating gaze met both Harry and Ginny; he knew it to be a lie yet didn't say anything. Dumbledore was a firm believer in second chances if the people truly wanted it; he'd given Severus Snape a second chance and he'd been a Death Eater... He could see Harry and Ginny wanted a chance at a normal life more the anything else. 

Though they'd never killed an innocent wizard... Harry had killed—Dumbledore didn't know about Ginny, he had a sneaking suspiscion she hadn't, and that Harry hadn't told her he had... but that would be up to Harry, that would be for them to sort out...Unless it never happened! Both had hurt, both had tortured, and perhaps enjoyed it. They had strayed as close to the line that separates good from evil—right from wrong—as possible without crossing over... or at least, they'd stepped back again... they'd waded through the various shades of grey that existed there... This was their second chance. 

Harry promised himself, for both of them, they wouldn't need a third.

'Ginny, would you fetch Regina Ong please, and bring her here?' The redhead gave a nod and left quietly, shooting Harry a look of appraisal, and then left... Had she been weighing up what she wanted? Did she want to be with him? Worse yet, did she not?

'Oh, Ginny,' Dumbledore called. 'You should find the vice minister at Hogsmead.'

Ron fell back into the ministers chair. 'I don't understand something,' he said, then, realising with disgust whose chair it was quickly scrambled to his feet. 

'Which is?' said Harry.

'What happened after you split away from the Order of Auror?' said Ron. 'You said you'd explain everything later... Well, it's pretty much later.'

Harry opened his mouth to answer.

'I can explain,' said Dumbledore who glanced at Harry. 'Harry, it seem as though you have something you wish say to Ginny-' 

Harry looked unsure... What if Dumbledore told Ron and Hermione the truth? 

'-It's okay, Harry. Go, start your "_second chance"_ with the lovely young lady, you'll regret it if you don't... I'm sure you wouldn't want to let her go... You make a lovely couple, picture perfect... Mirror perfect even!'

Hermione glanced at Ron looking distinctly confused. Mirror perfect? The redhead just mouthed to her, 'Crazy as a loon,' and Hermione couldn't help laugh. Ron could get her so mad, but he was also one of the few people that could make her genuinely laugh as well.

'Thank you,' Harry nodded to Dumbledore. 'You two,' he called to Ron and Hermione. 'I expect an invite to the wedding!'

'Huh?'

'What?'

Harry darted off down the corridor, a smile on his lips, the bowler hat falling to the ground as he ran... he just left it.

Dumbledore waited for Harry to leave and Ron and Hermione's attention to once again focus, before beginning. 'You see, the first two factions to split away from the Order Harry founded called themselves the Diloursey's and the Triads, as I'm sure you both already know-' Ron and Hermione nodded. '-Harry and I believed at the time a few of the Wizards within one or both of the groups might be working for Voldemort. We thought they were attempting to cause further rifts between the Ministry and the Resistance-'

'And were they?' Hermione more-less read Ron's own thoughts.

'In a way,' said Dumbledore cryptically. 'They were not Death Eaters per se... Quite the opposite in fact: They were Auror's, albeit very dark Auror's. They were however, working under Fudge's orders. It was Fudge who convinced them to take harder action against Voldemort and dark wizards.' 

'Why would Fudge do that? I thought he was working for Voldemort!'

'It served to split the Order of Auror up, allowing Voldemort to take down the Auror's that were hunting him... it also caused further rifts between the Resistance and the Ministry. Of course we didn't know any of this, Harry and I still believed them to be working for Voldemort. So it was decided that Harry and Ginny would join those two renegade factions, and try to find out who amongst them were working for Voldemort... Harry also told Fudge of this plan and came to an agreement with him... if a dark wizard were caught, he would leave a sign above where they'd been caught and the ministry would swoop in.'

'Then why would he do that?' said Ron echoing his last question.

'It was an attempt of mine to lessen the gap between the Ministry and the Resistance... short-sightedness on my part, I blame myself for Harry and Ginny's past... I should have realised something was wrong with Fudge.'

'You couldn't have known,' Hermione said. 'How could you have known?'

'To this very day, I don't know, but because of my plan two good wizards have lost years of their life as fugitives.'

'No,' said Ron fervently. 'It wasn't you, it was Fudge... Neither Harry or my sister blame you, they blame him. I trust their judgment.'

'Perhaps,' said Dumbledore. 'But I digress, you want to hear of Harry and Ginny... In the end, they couldn't find any dark wizards, and with Harry on their sides—he's somewhat as a beacon of hope in the fight against Voldemort—those three factions ended up catching countless dark Wizards.'

'So that's when they went after Voldemort: They thought they could end it all,' said Hermione.

Dumbledore nodded sadly. 'Yes, Hermione, they did... and they might have been capable of it as well, if given a fair chance. But Fudge warned Voldemort... He must have, because Voldemort was ready for them all... A great many Auror's died that day. I may not have liked their methods, but they were one of the reason as to why Voldemort didn't gain complete control, especially after the rift in the Wizard community. If it weren't for them, then Voldemort might now rule this world.'

Ron gulped down a lump in his throat. 'So what about when...' 

'When Harry "killed" those men at the Ministry?' asked Dumbledore; Ron nodded feebly. 'From what I gather, Harry found out about spies in the Ministry. Spies that were working in league with Voldemort. Harry and Ginny believed it was those three wizards who had warned Voldemort of the Orders offensive against him. Harry blamed those three for the deaths of many of his fellow Auror's, and took revenge.'

'But I thought he didn't kill them,' protested Hermione.

'He didn't,' lied Dumbledore. 'They were dark Wizards though, and Harry attacked them, there is no doubt about that; there is no doubt he went to the Ministry to bring those wizards to justice... But from what Harry has told me, he never killed them, he never got the chance. They managed to get away; there were a lot of other wizards about at the time. I suspect that it was Fudge who killed them.'

Ron went to protest but Dumbledore silenced him by holding up his hands. 'I will explain all I can Mr. Weasley if you allow me to.'

Ron turned a deep shade of red and muttered, 'Sure.'

'From what I can gather, and I may be wrong, Fudge kill his own men on Voldemort's orders. If Harry Potter killed _innocent_ Wizards, then Fudge could finally do something about him without drawing attention to the fact he was a Death Eater. Before that day, Fudge could do nothing to stop Harry or the Order of Auror; they were hurting Voldemort too much, public opinion wouldn't hear of Harry being sentenced to the Dementors. So, when Harry found out about the three spies, it must have seemed perfect. Wait for Harry to cast the first spell, and then claim he was trying to kill them... he would immediately be overrun by other members of the ministry...' 

'Harry told Hagrid he'd killed those wizards though,' Hermione said.

'There were curses flying all other the place; I daresay caught in the crossfire, Harry truly believed he had killed them—after all, he didn't know Cornelius was a Death Eater. I'm sure in the confusion, Harry couldn't have known if he'd hit a wizard, or a table... Harry escaped, of course, believing he'd killed them; believing he'd done justice... Then of course, Cornelius made up the scandel that they were infact innocent of the charges brought against them; that the Death Eater Harry had seen them in the company of was actually a spy; the Death Eater he'd seen then left Voldemort's ranks to join the Ministry to complete the act and Harry believed he'd killed innocent wizards...' 

'Oh god,' said Ron in shock, his eyes almost tearful. 'I... I... blamed Harry for that... I can't believe it... The things I said.'

'He doesn't blame you,' said Hermione softly, embracing Ron.'Poor Harry and Ginny,' she sighed. 'What must they have gone through?'

'Ron, Harry never blamed you; you never done anything wrong,' Dumbeldore reassured. 'He blamed himself, but he never blamed you. In fact, I can safely say, the way you confronted him on the matter made him respect you all the more.'

'Is he alright now?' said Ron; Hermione looked as equally anxious to know the answer.

'Yes. Luckily he figured out the truth... If he didn't, then who knows what would have happened to him. Killing someone—or believing you have—accidental or otherwise, can change a person... Change them from the worse. It would take a great person to change in such a way but still wish to come back to the light.'

'But he didn't change?'

'No,' Dumbledore looked fleetingly at Ron and Hermione, a smile flashing across his face. 'Now I hear from a very good source the Weasley-Granger epic romance saga has begun a new chapter, is it true?'

~*~

'Ginny!' Harry called into the street, nearly collapsing as he ran after her. '...Wait...' he gasped, clasping the stitch at his side as he attempted to catch his breath. The red-head slowed her pace, stopping completely at a junction to let Harry catch up. 'Boy, you really walk fast, Gin.'

'You're wearing you robes,' Ginny pointed out.

Harry glanced down at his black robes. 'Oh—'

An old man walked past, giving Harry an odd look and muttering, 'Youngsters! Getting stranger and stranger these days.'

'Still, not as strange as our grandson,' said the old woman walking alongside him. 'Have you seen the clothes he wears?.. Calls it a... a... "Goth" look, I think. Ghastly.'

'—It doesn't matter. Gin, I need to know... What I mean to say is... The kiss, and what I said after it. I mean it.'

Ginny laughed standing with her hands akimbo. 'What, we'll talk? Well we're doing that right now, Harry.'

'You know what I mean,' said Harry as he waved his hands at his sides in an attempt to express his emotions. 'What I'm trying to say is...'

'Have you been drinking again?'

'Ginny, I'm crazy about you... What, no I haven't been drinking again... Just listen, because I'm only going to say this little speech once... and even now I'm having second thoughts; it sounded a lot better in my head.'

'Alright, I'm listening... I'm used to just listening by now, what with you always yapping on.'

'Shut up.'

'Charming.'

Harry coughed angrily, flashing Ginny what was supposed to be a stern look but only looked ridiculous sending Ginny into a bout of laughter. 'Oh, I give up,' Harry sighed. 'This is hard enough as it is.'

'No, wait,' Ginny said abruptly, still trying to keep from laughing. 'Just give me-' Again she started to laugh... 'Give me a minute... Just a few seconds... Harry, do that look again... The Hermione look!'

'No! Just listen.'

'Alright, alright, I'm listening.'

Harry watched her for a few seconds, to judge whether or not he could continue; obviously he decided he could because he cleared his throat ready to talk. 'Ginny, you are my rock, the only thing I could depend on these past years. You are the most important person in the world to me; what I would miss the most of all if I didn't have-'

'What about Quidditch?' said Ginny.

'-Okay, second most-'

'Make it a good answer, Harry,' laughed Ginny.

'More important then even Quidditch!' Harry said, hastily. 'I couldn't live without you. Words can't even begin to describe how I feel about you, Ginny, as I'm obviously proving... though that might just be that I'm not very good with words... We have a second chance now. A chance to begin our lives again, and I want, very much for you to be a part of my life: A big part of my life.'

'Harry,' said Ginny taking Harry's hands in her own in a display of affection. 'I'll always be a part of your life. We'll be friends-'

'Bigger then that,' said Harry. 'Ginny, I don't know if it's love, I have nothing to compare it with; I've never felt for anyone else what I feel for you. But whatever it is, I've felt it for years; I've just been too much of a coward to tell you. The truth is, I couldn't bare to loose what we have... unless I knew I would get more. I want all of you Ginny.'

'Well...' said Ginny, looking at Harry with appraisal. '...Okay then,' she said with a shrug.

'What? Just like that?.. I feel cheated, I was expecting to have to prove myself to you, I brought my wand and everything... I at least expected for you to say more then "Okay then."'

'Harry, I've waited long enough for you. I don't see the need to start reciting poetry-'

'You couldn't if you wanted to,' laughed Harry. 'You don't know any! You've hated poetry ever since you read that enchanted poetry book... the one that—entertainingly—made you speak in rhythms for an entire week...'

'Are you going to kiss me or are you going to yap on?'

'Well, the first-'

Harry was immediately silenced as Ginny leant forward, bringing her lips to his in an almost aggressive kiss, attacking his mouth, melting into his embrace. She could feel his hands run their way up her back, all over her body, claiming every part he could claim (in public that is); shudders of pleasure where ever he touched. His mouth on her own, fitting so perfectly, tasting, feeling... The feel of each others frantic, explosive kisses, the breathless gasps, it was nearly too much... She was on fire, burning passion. Harry's own body heat glowing in it's sum flush against Ginny, as she was sure so her own was against him. They were lost in each other, completely oblivious to the looks they were getting from the passing crowd... or the catcalls. All Ginny knew was she had Harry. Finally, after years of waiting, she had him. Completely. Not just a night of passion they never spoke of the next day; she had him and all of him. His hand knotted itself in her hair, her own hands in his... to ensure the kiss would last... Neither wanted it to end; it was how it should be. It was perfect. It wasn't just the kiss, it was what the kiss represented, it was the promise of more, much more... A tiny voice in the back of Ginny's mind whispered something, somehow—as rediculous as it seemed—emerging over the lust. There was something she had to do, wasn't there? What was it? What was it... she couldn't remember... Minister... She had to get the vice minister...

Ginny pulled away with a sigh; having to force herself to do so. She certainly didn't want to. 'Sorry,' she muttered gasping for breath. 'But I really have to go get the vice minister; there'll be plenty of time for _that_ later,' she leered.

'Look forward to it,' Harry grinned, though unable to hide the disappointment that the kiss had ended. 'I've got to go somewhere anyway... Besides, there's a crowd of Muggles watching us...'

'So...'

'So...'

'So... I've got to go...'

'You already said that!'

'Oh...'

~*~

Harry appeared in Hogsmead a few seconds after Ginny; he had to dive into an alleyway so she wouldn't see him. 'Of all the places she could apparate, she had to apparate here,' he murmured, angrily. Then again, why should he be surprised that Ginny thought exactly as he did? In all their time together, they had become a unit. They worked in perfect sync with each other, so much so it was almost scary. Truth be told, there was no surprise that Ginny had apparated to the same place as he did.

He certainly didn't want her to see him though, if she did then she'd ask all sorts of questions. Questions he didn't have the answers to. He popped his head round the corner—attempting to stay hidden—in time to see Ginny dissapearing into the crowd, heading towards the Hogsmead bar (The most likely place for an ex-Quidditch Beater to be... probably knocking back the booze; Regina was famous for it. She'd once been reported to have gone on a three day drinking binge four day's before a match, yet still manage to play an... adequate game. [Authors note: Oh boy, I'm going to be shot for this] Unfortuantly, because of her intoxication, she'd been hit by one of the bludgers that match which had knocked one of her front teeth clear out!). Harry only just noticed how busy the square was, sounds of feet clapping against the coblestone floor filled the air; a sound that hadn't been heard for quite a while.

Exited chatter filled the air, people gossiping wildly, people laughing... It was quite extrodinary. It could almost be described as a street party. Huge decorations were hung on almost every building within the square: From Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, where a huge multicouloured tapastry hung from the second floor billowing magically in a breezeless morning; to Ollivanders wands—which celebrated in it's own, much less extravogent way—where fairly large signs placed in the window read, 'You-Know-Who's defeat' as covered by the Daily Prophet; Perhaps most exiting of all was Gringott's, where a huge array of firework-like-lights were shooting overhead, and large crowds gathered, many with bags full of money, ready to spend, spend, spend.

Harry shook his head dissaprovingly. There wasn't even confirmation that Voldemort had been caught, killed... anything. All they had was his word—well, a sign that represented him—and day's before, this surley would have meant nothing to them. Days before they feared him nearly as much as Voldemort himself... People were too trusting when it came to matters of Voldemort; such was the fear and the deprivation they had because of his reign of terror.

In the distance Harry heard a crowd of people chattering exitedly, crowding round a wizard who was selling copies of the Daily Prophet. Within seconds, he was sold out, wizards and witches, young and old grabbing at the papers.

'No use wasting time,' Harry thought out loud, though the carnival-like atmosphere of Hogsmead was getting to him. He could easily get caught up in the party's that were no doubt going on throughout the village and forget about what he had to do. Harry fought through the crowd; an extreemly difficult task with the mass of bodies there; several times he was almost swept away. Eventually he found himselves at Honeydukes, and slipped inside the packed building. Somehow, Harry wasn't sure how really—such was the difficulty—he managed to slip into the secret passage that lead to Hogwarts and minutes later found himself at the wall which opened into the school.

Harry swished his wand at the wall. 'Dissendium!' The wall opened immediatly as the one-eyed witch statue opened up into an empty corridor. Harry thought himself lucky; there was no way he could know it was empty, he didn't think to bring the Marauders map, he couldn't have been sure the corriddor was empty, and if anyone had seen him... there would be some very awkward questions asked. For the rest of his journey Harry stuck to the route which was least used when he was there, and soon found himself at the gargoyle statue that opened into Hermiones office... 'Westminster,' he said. Seconds later he'd dissapeared inside.

Harry stood for a second just to marvel at the sight... it's silvery reflection, the cherubs in the corner, the design. 'I can't believe she never knew,' he chuckled. 'Imagine, having a Dynasty Pensieve mirror and never knowing!' Harry took tentative steps toward the mirror that hund on the wall behin the desk; he seemed almost drawn to it. The auror ran his fingers over the glittering frame, feeling the etched designs on his skin...

'Help,' squeaked a wizard in the frame. 'A giant!'

'Now where's the key?' Harry said out loud. Taking his wand out, he waved it at the mirror causing it to flaot from the wall; hovering midair. 'Stay,' he ordered as though it were a pet. With noticable determintion he pulled open the draws of the cabinet, and quickly—though carefully—sorted through a host of magical devices; which though many could be considered interesting, some he'd never even seen before, were not what he was looking. The next draw didn't contain what he wanted either; though it did contain something extra interesting.

Holding the picture into the air, letting the natural light in the room highlight it, Harry couldn't help laugh. The scene was something he distinctly remebered, it was a day that would be forever fixed in his memory. 'A fan of Norris Albert-Greenway,' he laughed again, careful not to crease the picture or inadvertently mark it in any way; if he did then Hermione just might know someone had been in her office. 'I think I'm going to have to call her on the matter, never know, she might want my autograph!'

Harry placed the picture back in draw despite "Norris's" protests that, 'it was dark,' and stopped to think. If the key wasn't in the any of the draws, where would it be? Where would Hermioine keep somehting like that; something obviously magical, yet which she didn't know the purpose of? His eyes darted from item to item his mind racing to discover the key's whereabouts... perhaps an invisible safe... perhaps hidden in one of the books... perhaps it was under guard somewhere in the castle by a giant dog named Fluffy! No, it wouldn't be in any of them; it would be somewhere close to Hermione, somewhere she could keep an eye on it whilst she attempted to discover it's purpose. His stopped in his tracks as he glanced at the desk. 'Bingo!' his grin faded. 'Ginny would have absolutly cruicified me if she heard me say that,' he said, horrified.

Tapping the desk with his wand, he said, 'Revilosa!' Nothing happened. 'Show yourself,' he said, tapping it with his wand once again. 'Muggle... Big Ben... Parliment... Television...' Nothing he tried worked. 'The Simpsons... Futerama... Family Guy... Open damn it... please!' 

Harry stopped attempting to guess a password, thinking instead back to when he'd seen Hermione open up a secret drinks compartment the last time Harry had been here. Hermione had opened it without saying so much as the simplest hex, spell or curse... all she'd done was... What the hell had she done?

Harry, in his anger, brought his wand down hard against the desk, the tip of his wand hitting part of the decorative engravings that ran round the table; a flower bud to be precise. At once, the hidden compartment that held the many drinks sprung out. 

'Great, at least I won't die of dehydration now... Unless...' 

Following the decorative plant etches around the desk, he tapped his wand wherever a decorative flower bud was drawn into the wood, each time a new secret compartment opened: Some of them filled with nothing but quills and ink; others with more personal things—that Harry didn't dare look at—such as past letters from Ron; finally, Harry found what he was looking for when he tapped a small bud on the bottom half of the right hand side of the desk. The compartment opened, and there, at the back all on it's own, was a dull-blue circular medallion.

With the medallion held in his shaking grasp, Harry just stared at the mirror; just stared and stared, his eyes dilating as became rooted to the spot... What he saw made him nearly sick... What he had become. Harry stood paralysed, just staring into his own dark green eyes, watching himself... Harry shook his head disappointedly. 'Sorry Ginny,' he said sadly, a lone tear fell down the side of his face. 'Sorry, but I'm much to much of a coward to tell you the truth... I'm too much of a coward to face the truth... but this way, this way I don't have to lie to your face; don't have to lie to anyone's face's.' The slightest flicker of slight grin crossed his face. 'My new life begins today... our new life...' Touching the medallion with his wand he reluctantly said, 'Actiatus.'

Nothing happened. Either it hadn't worked, or it was one of the rare few spells commonly know as "invisible magic." That is, magic that gave out no outwardly sign it had been a success, no lights or sparks or shudders; you wouldn't know if it had been a success unless you then used it properly.

Harry brought the medallion up to each of the four cherubs—one in each corner—in turn. One at a time, as the medallion—now a perfect fit somehow—approached the angels disappeared inside; the medallion slotting into the circular space the cherubs left. The key turned—though somewhat stifly after years of standing unused—under Harry's grip; as soon as the key was removed though, the cherubs reappeared. If anyone were to come in then, they woudn't be any the wiser as to what was going on. Slowly Harry brought the medallion up to the last cherub, unsure of what to expect. The medallion seemed almost magnetic, drawn to the last cherub, it practically turned of its own accord... 

Harry felt a weird feeling, a pulling, almost as though a hook just behind his navel was dragging him forward... almost like a Portkey... but different. Harry felt a floating feeling, his head becoming light as air, he could almost feel himself hovering above the ground... then, then there was an incredibly odd feeling. It took him a few seconds to realise he was watching himself, and in turn, he could feel someone watching him: Himself... Suddenly the room was swamped in a flash of white light, dazzling, blinding, all consuming....

'You killed them. You killed them all. It's your fault they're dead.'

'Oh god... Harry, no... No, please.'

'HELP! SOMEONE HELP US! He's attacking us...'

'...Avada Kedavra...'

'He killed Flint!'

'Guess whose next, Henson? This is for those auror's you betrayed; my friends... Avada Kedavra.'

*

'...You killed them! Harry, what the hell do you mean, you killed them?..'

'...Ron, please, you have to believe me: I thought they were dark wizards... I didn't know...'

*

'...Hermione, I have something to tell you. You might want to sit down...'

*

'...Hagrid, I thought it best you heard it from me...'

*

'...Ginny... I've made a terrible mistake... Oh god, what have I done...'

*

'...Goodbye Macnair...'

'...You can't kill me, Potter. You haven't got it in you...'

'...That's where you're wrong, Macnair! Once is hard, a second times difficult, a third tough: Blind rage gets you through three. But a fourth? A fourths a breeze... Avada Kedavra...'

*

'...Nott, it's time to die... Avada Kedavra...'

*

'...Gin, I'm just going to do something. It shouldn't take long...'

*

'...It takes a dark wizard to defeat a dark wizard...'

*

'...Avada Kedavra... Avada Kedavra... Avada Kedavra... Avada Kedavra...

'Avada Kedavra... Avada Kedavra... Avada Kedavra... Avada Kedavra...

'Avada Kedavra... Avada Kedavra... Avada Kedavra... Avada Kedavra...

'Avada Kedavra... Avada Kedavra... Avada Kedavra... Avada Kedavra...'

*

'...Please! Please don't kill me!..'

'...I kill dark wizards, it's what I do...'

*

'...You're a match for Voldemort; I reckon you can defeat him...'

*

'...It takes a dark wizard to defeat a dark wizard...'

*

'...I kill dark wizards, it's what I do...'

*

'...I kill dark wizards, it's what I do...'

'...Go kill yourself then...'

*

'...Avada Kedavra...'

*

'Let go, Harry.'

'Ginny? Ron? Hermione? Hagrid? Dumbledore... what are you doing here?'

'Let the memories disappear. Let them float away. Let go, Harry, let go.'

'How?'

'Forget!'

'I don't know how!'

'Trust us...'

*

'Where am I? What's going on?'

'You're free.' 

'I'm... free?'

...Harry woke dazed and confused, there was almost a surreal feel to the world, like he were waking from a long sleep. A sleep where he was dreaming a dream he couldn't remember. He was briefly aware of silence around him, the only sound the beating of his heart and heavy breathing. His eyes fluttered open; he had awaken from a dream. That explained the surreal feeling he had, but what had he been dreaming... He wasn't quite sure. Not used to the light that assaulted his senses, it took a while for Harry to adjust. 'What the hell?' he gasped sitting bolt upright. Immediately he regretted it. The moment he sat up a pounding started between his eyes, a deep throbbing pain, it felt as though his head had been hit by a blunt object; it was almost numbing in it ferocity. His confusion couldn't have been helping things either. Harry racked his minds, trying to contemplate what he was doing in... Hermione's?! office? Harry couldn't remember, in fact, he couldn't remember much at all. A mist seemed to have clouded his mind, a thick blanket cover that cloaked his every memory. Even the most important things in his life, names, places, faces... even these were hazy. Yet, despite this feeling, despite that it should cause panic, or in the very least unease... it didn't. Was this amnesia? He didn't know. All he knew, was that it felt great. Harry—despite the headache—felt the best he'd felt in a long time. It almost as though he'd been freed; though from what he didn't know... was it that Voldemort was finished? Voldemort was finished? It might be... Yet, something deep inside told him otherwise. This had nothing to do with Voldemort. Harry must have sat where he was for minutes, just reflecting on his happiness; his contentment. Slowly, one memory after another began to return, very slowly at first, but then the returning memories began to cascade, more memories filled his head ever faster, ever greater, it was nearly too much to take in; the haze began to lift. 

Harry sighed, though for what reason he wasn't sure; it was just a sigh of contentment. Propping himself up, he got to his feet, finally noticing the feel of cold metal in his hand. With slight apprehension, he opened his fist. In his opened palm was a small blue medallion. His eyes widened in recognition, another memory flooding back; stronger then the others, it must be the most recent, and pretty important. At least he knew what he was doing in Hermione's office now; he'd come to use the Dynasty Pensieve mirror. For what reason Harry dare not guess.

His head once again gave a throb of pain and Harry stumbled forward, stopped only because of the huge oak desk. Unfortunately, the headache hadn't gone with the cloud that had swamped his mind; but thankfully neither had the feeling of happiness. 'Hmmm,' he said with quite reflection (Quite because if he spoke too loud it would aggrevate his headache further.) 'I wonder what memories I've wiped...' Harry paused abruptly, a voice in the back of his mind telling him he really didn't; this voice overrode any such principles of curiocity. 'Actually,' he added, sadly, 'I don't.' He shook his head, perhaps to silence the voice that was still calling for him to watch the memories he'd removed. 'I really, truley, don't.'

With all said and done, Harry left Hogwarts, making sure to leave everything how he'd found it; Hermione was extremely organised and would be sure to notice if anything was moved. Just before he left, he placed the Mirror key in it's compartment, and straightened the mirror itself; after putting it back on the wall. For some reason, contrary to how he'd been for years, Harry couldn't help but grin just for the sake of grinning. What had changed him? The only reason he grinned before was when Ginny cracked a joke! Nor could he help the bounce in his step or whistle on his lips... particularly when he thought of Ginny, or even his friends. He'd be with friends again, Hermione and Ron... Christmas at the Weasley's. Of course he and Ginny would get their own apartment, but Christmas was a time for families. Harry considered none more of a family then the Weasley's.

'I wonder what sort of decor Ginny wants,' Harry thought, pointlessly. 'She better not go all girly pink on me.'

That very day he would start his new life. He would disband the Order of Auror—which wouldn't be exactly hard as apart from he and Ginny there were only a few other auror's in the world that still used the name—and get another less dangerous job... Perhaps Hermione had a position for him, or there was always the ministry there would be a lot of vacancies there! 

That day he had begun again; his second chance. A real chance, the way it should have been. Whatever memories he'd removed—forever stored inside the key—from existence, were gone. Whatever they were, whatever he'd done to warant such drastic action as removing... or adjusting them, he would make sure never do it again; or at least try. Whatever they were, it surley had something to do with Voldemort, and he was finished now....

Harry's past was behind him. He had done many terrible things he could still remeber: torture, spread fear, he'd even killed three people in his life. Three! Though it wasn't something he would ever be able to forget, in the end, he'd had no other choice; it was a life and death situation. His past was gone, forgotten, lost. His future? His future was just beginning. His future was five-foot-seven, red-haired and stunning. For the first for as long as he could remeber he truley felt himself again. Harry Potter was back....

'I wonder if I can stil fly like I used to!'

****

THE END... 

No, wait, I want to do something really corny here: 

****

THE BEGINNING...

Extended authors notes (Warning, warning, sappiness abound):

Well, there it is, the final chapter, all done. The final chapter; my first complete fic. The fic is finished. Done and dusted apart perhaps for an epilogue and a "fake" or "alternate" epilogue which is already written. I'm a little sad that the fic is finished, I had so much fun writing it ::sighs:: What started out as a three chapter excuse to turn Harry into dark-Harry has turned into a nine chapter, fifty-five thousand word plus fic with a storyline! Just goes to show you: I have no idea what I'm doing ::laughs out loud:: (LOL to you email savvy people).

When I first posted the fic, I didn't get any reviews whatsoever for a few day's, and got very worried that the fic was so crap it didn't warrant any reviews. I remember thinking at the time I would kill (Okay, not literally.) for just 10 reviews... well, at the time of this going out, there have been 21 reviews. That's over double what I hoped for! So I just wanted to thank from the bottom of my heart (i.e. my septum) all those that reviewed. More importantly, the fact that the reviews seemed to speak well of the fic, quelled all doubts I had about the fic. The following people warrant special mention:

No Reply (Who finally signed in!). Thanks for the feedback. As for the question, well, Marcus was just a plot device. I, yes, just used him to introduce the Order of Auror, The Two, and of course the Ministry Taskforce... as well as using him to throw a few hints about dear, Wormtail-sized rat, Cornelius Fudge.

Regina... Who sends me curses and bludgers via email. Thank you Regina, hope you don't send me a too bad curse for casting you in the last chapter ::ducks bludger:: Anyway... Regina... gotta thank Regina whose curses got my ass (Can I say that... Oh yeah, it's R-rated: I could say a lot more if I wanted... but I won't: I'm bloody well and English gentleman for heavens sake.) into gear... there's nothing like the threat of the Avada Kedavra curse to get you moving with a chapter!

Rhi... Fantastic author, wrote a brilliant H/G fic even though she doesn't find Harry particularly interesting to write (That's just enraging! That's just unfair!) Go read her stuff [::There, Rhi, I said it, now can you put that gun down?::]. Plus, not only is she a great author (Who needs to start her next fic!) but she's part Swedish as well, what is there not to love about her? Thank-you Rhi, my dear, for all your feedback and for encouraging me to "express myself" better! ::grins pointlessly::

Person... A yes: Person represents that little bit of person in all of us... or is it that complete person in each of us. Well, one thing we know about Person for sure, according to their biography, is that they're a person! Anyway Person, if you're reading this, thanks for the feedback... Oh yes, Person has a Harry Potter site as well: http://www.geocities.com/eeieeioooo/

Spitfyre, what can I say? You've reviewed every single chapter... You are like, my hero! By the way, did you guess right that Ginny stole the Marauders map? I'm not a particularly big fan of Draco either, of course I supposed you could say I like him in the "I like to hate him" kind of way. Same with Snape. But Draco would never hook up with either Hermione or Ginny in any of my fics; it would change his character too much (not to mention whoever he falls in love with). Besides, I think Draco is best as the nemesis of H, Hr and R... That, in my opinion, is his place in Harry Potter books. Oh yeah, you want the prequel fic finished? Well, I'm making it my priority now that this fic is practically finished, so "Rings of..." will be underway again, soon....

Raven of Death, with your very dramatic, and a little scary pen name... though aren't crows more often associated with death then Ravens? Anyway, if you're reading this, thanks for your feedback throughout the fic.

Kiara... You're review has greatly boosted a below average ego! I would have thanked you personally, only you didn't leave an email address so I'm thanking you now: "Thanks". I hope this last chapter answers all your questions and ties up any loose ends... What did you think of the bigger rat? Big, no? Twisty, huh? Once again, thank you for your kind words. Cheers! ::downs a pint::

One final thank you to my little sister who introduced me to the world of Harry Potter... though she'll never see this fic, at least for a while (It's R rated people!)... she's too little... at least she is in my eyes; she's my baby, 10 year old, sister.


	10. Alternate "Evil" ending...

Dark Mark's Orders and Auror's Chapter 9. 

Alternate ending epilogue.

By Chris.

Authors note: This is an alternate ending; you should not read this chapter if you liked the previous ending because it throws everything, and I do mean everything, on it's head and out of whack. If you feel up to it though, read this chapter as the epilogue, and I guarantee you probably won't believe the twist ending... Twist, twist, twist. Betrayal.

Note: Once more, this is an alternate ending. This is not the correct ending to the fic. as I envisaged it, the true fic actually ended in chapter 8... this is just a little bit of fun!

Oh boy, I am going to get shot for this... read on...

(Flashbacks a many... Brace yourselves!)

Alternate end—Chapter 9: Epilogue.

~~*~~

'Fred, George,' Ginny greeted happily. 'Long time no see!'

Both men looked up, stopping their discussion on their latest product immediately. 'Ginny,' they shouted from across the room, at the same time, in the same way: It was a nasty habit they had, and must feel to an outsider as though they were the same person (Well, it used to anyway). Neither gave a second thought as to how their younger sister had gotten past security and into the building, they were to busy bounding towards her.

Fred was the first to reach his younger sister, pulling Ginny into a bear hug, so tight it cut off her air supply and she was lifted off the ground. As soon as her feet touched the ground again, she was pulled into another identical hug by George. 

Her brothers looked a lot different from when she'd last seen them. Oh, they still had the same mischievous smile they'd had ever since they were three, a smile that seemed to travel all the way to their twinkling eyes; that was something that would never change. However, they did seem a little more mature—though Ginny guessed not a hell of a lot more—with a bit of life-experience under their belt. In an attempt to distinguish themselves, George had grown a goatee beard which Ginny couldn't help laugh at, whilst Fred had grown his hair into a ponytail; though it didn't look at all like her other older brothers, Bill, long hair.

'So, what, are these fakes?' Ginny joked, pulling Fred hair lightly; she wouldn't have been surprised if it fell off. 

George stroked his beard defensively, whilst Fred pulled combed his hair back giving a wince as Ginny gave it one final tug.

'Well, looks like there's a comedian in the family, Fred!'

'Yep, looks that way...' Fred said, looking at Ginny with a grin. 'Ginny, wait there, I'll go get a drum kit. You could do a stand up act!'

'Too late, she's already used her A-material.'

Fred shrugged. 'Care for something to eat, Ginny?' he asked innocently.

'I wouldn't eat anything you gave me, Fred,' said Ginny, adamantly.

Fred and George steered her to a small coffee table with surrounding chairs. Ginny took a single seater whilst Fred and George collapsed into a three seater settee, both with matching hurt looks. 

'Ginny, I'm truly hurt that you still believe we'd be involved in such childish pranks,' exclaimed Fred sounding outraged.

'You have to understand, we've become more sophisticated over the years, Gin,' explained George. 'We no longer go for just cheap laughs...'

Ginny just raised an eyebrow. 'Yeah right...' she scoffed. 'You must think I'm still twelve.'

'Damn!'

Fred picked up a tray that had been placed on the coffee table. 'Thought we'd get you then...' he said, disappointedly. 'Oh well, here, have a cupcake,' he said holding out a plate full of delicious looking cakes and waving them in front of Ginny's nose. 

They were by far the biggest, creamiest, most chocolaty and tempting cakes Ginny ever seen or smelt. She could feel her mouth watering in anticipation, and her stomach seemed to be waging a war with her mind: one adamant she shouldn't eat them, the other she should. The temptation to take just one was almost too great, perhaps it wouldn't be so bad is she took one little bite. Ginny brought her hand up... then stopped. 'Okay, you must really think I'm stupid,' she said angrily.

Fred and George looked stumped. 'How did you resist them?' said Fred, incredulously. 'We put in trace amounts of temptation berry.'

'I knew it wouldn't work,' said George. 'She takes down Death Eaters for a living, for Merlin's sake... Now Percy, it would work with Percy.' 

'Oh please, Percy's too easy.'

'I thought you didn't go for cheap laughs?' said Ginny.

George shook his head. 'No, I said we didn't just go for cheap laughs. We occasionally do something sophisticated.'

'Besides, those were damn expensive to make.'

George, unhappily, placed the plate full of cakes back on the desk, licking his lips as he done so. 'So what brings you here, little sis?' he said, still looking greedily at the cakes. 'Fred, want a cake?'

'Okay,' Fred reached out, but, suddenly, realised what he was doing, mentally slapped himself. 'I think we better get those out of here... I don't want to end up looking like a werewolf, no matter how good they taste.'

George picked up the plate, not daring to look at the temptation it held. 'Good idea,' he said, quickly disappearing into another room, still holding the plate away from him as though it held some sort of poison.

'So, what brings you here, Ginny?' asked Fred as always with a grin. Voldemort's reign of terror would no sooner dampen Fred and Georges spirits then it would stop goblins collecting money.

Ginny smiled serenely. 'I came to ask you about your self-spelling wands!'

Fred's grin faded, though he still looked amused. 'Oy, George,' he called. 'Ginny thinks we've got some sort of self-spelling wands!'

A crash sounded from the other room, George had apparently dropped the plate full of cakes. A few seconds later he reappeared. 'Self-spelling wands,' he laughed, but his grin soon faded. 'You haven't told her anything, have you, Fred.'

'What, no...' Fred said, looking angrily at his brother. 'But you practically did...'

'No I didn't...' George hissed. 'I couldn't have because we DON'T have self-spelling wands!'

'Listen,' Ginny said calmly, still with the same serene grin. Both twins shot her an angry grin. 'I doesn't matter how I know, I do... I want to take a look at one.'

'We don't have-' Fred tried, but he was cut off by Ginny.

'Don't deny it, Fred. I already know you have self-spelling wands, so it would be pointless. I just want to see them... and if you don't...' Fred and George shot her challenging looks, as if to say "you'll-do-what?" 'I'll accuse you of being a Death Eater. I'll accuse you of being a Death Eater on the sly, I'll mention it... and you'll have Harry banging on your door in ten seconds flat!'

Fred and George stared at her, completely taken back. 'You're blackmailing us?' one of them asked; Ginny just nodded. The twins glanced at each other, and Ginny suddenly felt much less confident. A look of great appraisal playing across her brothers faces, a very odd look for them to say the least. Finally, they seemed to have come to a conclusion, both wore matching grins. Suddenly, without warning, they dived at her. Before she knew what was happening, she had been pulled into a group hug, as the twins danced around crazily each holding one of Ginny's arms.

'I always knew you were a proper Weasley, Ginny,' said Fred, almost in a sing-song voice.

'Yeah, about time you showed your true colours,' cheered George. 'I was beginning to think you were another Percy or another ickle Ronikins!'

'God forbid!' said Fred.

Ginny finally pulled away from her brothers grips; though they continued to dance. 'So, you'll show me then?'

'Course,' said George as the crazy dance finally came to and end. 'But whatever you see doesn't go further then this building: Top Secret,' he added gravely.

'Follow us,' ordered Fred, who then glanced at George. 'Shall we get her one of those special VIP tags?'

'Nah, it'll take to long,' groaned George, 'The people at reception are really crap.' 

'We should fire them then!'

'But they're perfect guinea pigs though!'

'Good point. We should keep them.'

The self-spelling wand was quite amazing; by far the most amazing magical discovery of the century. The wand could cast a spell without Ginny so much as whispering an incantation. All she had to do was point the wand, and a spell shot from the end. It was so easy, Ginny assumed even a regular Muggle could perform magic with one... perhaps that's why there hadn't been more research into self-spelling wands in the past. Even so, if used in the right hands, these could come in really handy. If used in the wrong hands... well, they could make her brothers rich: Blind stinking rich. And to think her mum nearly stopped Fred and George's from pursuing their dream of creating joke products. Luckily they were just as head strong as any of the Weasley's.

'What's the verdict?' one of her brothers asked from behind her.

Ginny gave the wand one final glance over. 'I want one,' she said, excitedly. 'Can you make a perfect copy of anyone's wand?'

'No can do,' said Fred shaking his head.

'Not possible,' said George, grabbing at the self-spelling wand.

'Fred, George, you have to make me one,' said Ginny eagerly. 'Come on, for your favourite sister.'

'No, you don't understand,' said Fred angrily. 'We physically can't! The self-spelling wand is by far the most difficult device we've ever made. It's so difficult, time consuming, and so expensive, we wouldn't even be make a commercial profit from them.'

'And that's not all,' continued George. 'Each self-spelling wand can do one spell only—and even then only if it's a very simple spell. That wand you were looking at: it's the only self-spelling wand we've managed to make! All other attempts to repeat it have failed... all the others do are cause a load of pain; must be some sort of torture spell... Though it wasn't supposed to be!'

'You can do it,' said Ginny, encouragingly. 'I know you can... Money's not a problem. I can get you money.'

~~*~~

It was a dark night, and Ginny stood at the edge of a large group of trees standing in silence. An occasional wind blew through her silky, wavy hair. A sudden tap on her shoulder made her jump. She spun round; no one was there. Normally, seeing her jump like that, and the invisible person would have laughed madly; they never did.

A hand suddenly appeared in front of Ginny, almost as though it were a floating severed hand; the person had an invisibility cloak. Clutched in the grip, was a long, thin wand. 'Here it is,' the voice whispered from beneath the invisibility cloak, nervously. 'I don't know what you want it for, and frankly I don't care.' A paused followed. We never made it, right?'

Ginny held her hand out, and with a grin, took the wand. 'Right,' she said.

~~*~~

{{{But Fudge warned Voldemort... He must have, because Voldemort was ready for them all... A great many Auror's died that day.}}}

'...What are you doing here Weasley... I should kill you now...'

'...You can try: You'll never even reach your wand...'

'...It's tomorrow night! Tell him it's tomorrow night! The Order of Auror is coming for him...'

~~*~~

Ginny took in the scene from her vantage point way above the room; she could see everything. The room was large, and judging by the mountains of boxes, containers and packages, was obviously used as a storage room. At the far end of the rectangular room, three people were whispering in hushed voices; they were obviously scared, and had only just realised the room had but on entrance. A few seconds later, and a familiar figure also entered; it was Harry. He was obviously after the three people he deemed responsible for the death of his fellow auror's. Immediately, the three people—two wizards and a witch—scattered diving behind the many boxes just as a spell hit. 

Harry stepped further into the room, his wand clutched in typical duelling position. 'Flint,' Ginny heard him call angrily. 'Come out Flint, I'm taking you in... You killed them, you killed them all. It's your fault they're dead. Flint, Henson, Lee? I saw you all... I saw you talking to that Death Eater.'

No one answered, the room was still. The only sound Ginny could hear was that of her own heavy breathing; Ginny feared for a second it was too loud, Harry glanced in her direction, but looked straight through the invisibility cloak, Ginny all the while holding her breath. 

Suddenly, Harry dived across the room, ducking under another large box full of magical items. It reminded Ginny of one of those Muggle movies her dad had played one time; where the Muggle law enforcers shot each other with guns. Mid flight, Harry pointed his wand at Jason Flint...

'Oh god,' Flint shouted as Harry dived into view, his wand pointed and ready to fire. Flint himself dived in a similar—if not a little more awkwardly—fashion to Harry, landing just out of reach of the spell. 'Harry, no,' Flint called again. 'No, please!' Fudge had warned them that Harry was dangerous, that he would kill them without mercy if he caught them.

Ginny looked back at Harry who had ducked behind a box looking at his wand completely bewildered. He shook it slightly like it were broke; after all, he hadn't said a word, and yet a spell had been fired. Perhaps it was just his rage... Yeah, that was it.

Ginny stayed as quite as she could, concentrating on the developing situation; she ran through the plan once more, but was unceremoniously snapped out of her musings when another spell shot across the room, accompanied by a shout of fear.

'HELP! SOMEONE HELP US! He's attacking us...' It was Jason Flint.

Within seconds, the placed was swarming with Ministry Wizards. A combination of the spells fired by Harry in his attempts to capture the three wizards, and the yells for help from those Harry sought to capture must have attracted the entire buildings staff. The room was filled with wizards and witches, so many so, Harry couldn't stop them entering; there was only so many he could keep at bay, what with keeping an eye on Jason Flint, Daniel Henson, and Samantha Lee as well. The ministry wizards spread across the room tactically, and spells and counter spells began to sound across the room; Ginny had to dodge several of the more off target ones.

'...Stupefy...'

'...Petrificus Totalus...'

More shouts, more jinxes and more spells. Some of them designed to injure, some designed to take down, and some of them, well, Ginny quite frankly didn't know what they were supposed to do. The Ridikulus spell for example; how was that supposed to stop Harry? Then again, the ministry was full of bunglers as well as less experienced witches and wizards. The chaos was getting out of hand, the room full of reds and greens, explosions and implosions... Now was her time. The cries of spell casting had reached such a volume, you couldn't tell who was shouting anymore. Ginny swished her wand, aiming for a large crate that stood midway between Harry and the many ministry members and shouted, 'Avada Kedavra.'

The whole room fell deadly—no pun intended—silent. For the first time since Harry had cornered Flint, Henson and Lee, no spells were fired. No lights filled the room. No one dived from box to box, or signalled to anyone else to do this or that. The entire room—including Harry—had stopped in shock and fallen quite. Amongst the ministry ranks, many looked white as a ghost, whilst others glanced around not sure who had cast the fatal curse that had, thankfully, missed. It had just become a life or death situation, and then... all hell broke loose...

'...Avada Kedavra...'

It was kill, or be killed. Every spell had become the fatal Avada Kedavra, many shooting blindly exploding boxes here, there and everywhere. Harry was fast being forced back by the sheer numbers of Ministry Wizards, the tables had turned; it would be incredibly difficult for him to escape.

The time was right. Ginny, poking her hand out of the cloak once more, brought Harry's wand down and, with precision accuracy, cast the fatal spell once again. Harry had aimed for the same person with the same curse on his lips, though—unkowingly—his wand was delivering a none fatal curse. 

Flint was hit, his body tightened painfully, and he let out a strangles scream then fell dead. His body collapsing into the open for everyone to see. 

'...He killed Flint...' someone screamed.

Harry's mouth fell open, he stood looking shocked beyond belief, oblivious to the fatal curses that flew past shattering boxes around him. He'd killed someone; he was a killer. A rising feeling in his gut followed his chests contraction, and a wave of dizziness fell over him. He couldn't comprehend what it'd feel like to kill someone, the way the spell swept from his wand, the look in the other mans eye's just before it hit... that haunted look... Harry was snapped back to reality as a box in front of him exploded, leaving him open. With a great dive, Harry managed to reach another cover of boxes as a wave of fatal curses shot by. 'Guess whose next, Henson?' he called, not completely aware he was speaking. 'This is for those auror's you betrayed; my friends... ' Harry poked his head round the corner, and shouted, 'Avada Kedavra.'

Again, Ginny was ready and pointed Harry's wand at Henson just as Harry himself did; Harry never noticed there were two curses, he never had time. As soon as he cast the spell he ducked back into cover and the ministry wizards were to frightened to pay to much attention to trivial things such as maths. 

POP. Henson fell dead the same haunted look on his face as Flint. Seconds later, Samantha Lee joined Jason Flint and Daniel Henson: Three dead by Harry's wand.

With her work done, Ginny crept out keeping to the cover of the boxes. Then she was gone. Harry would escape moments later, though, to this day, she didn't know how... He was just the best as survival.

~~*~~

...Ginny shook her head, her hair shaking wildly as she done so. This was no time for daydreaming. There was much she had to do; finding the vice minister, Regina Ong, was just one of the many tasks. 

All around her people were dancing; dancing for joy. Children played happily dodging through the crowd, people were drinking and then breaking into song. Ginny continued to walk through the crowd, constantly bumping into people but paying them no attention as they paid her none; the atmosphere was too happy for people to start arguments. 

After ten minutes of walking, the crowds were beginning to thin somewhat; she could happily walk through them now, without the fear of being swept of course with the celebrations. There was a good reason theses celebrations were thinning; she was approaching Knockturn Alley. Even Knockturn Alley didn't escape the parade though, there were still crowds of people gathering, and celebrating the fall of the Dark Lord. Such was the fear that Voldemort had spread, and such was the relief that he was now, finally, finished. 

After minutes more walking, though she was used to it by now, the rows of building began to grow ever more dark minded, many looking dirty and dingy, and the shops filled with ingrediants for dark arts. This was the heart of Knockturn Alley, here, amidst the many shops, not a soul dared to celebrate or rejoice in the defeat of the Dark Lord; this was where many of his willing followers came from. The mood was that of defeat and desperation. I what had been reported was true, the Dark Lord was defeated, then these would be the people to suffer.

Ginny came to a large shop building that stood empty and crumbling. A large sign over head read simply, "Potions." This wasn't just any shop, however, this was a shop that sold darker ingredients then those sold in the Hogsmead potions shop. She walked passed the window of the building, and despite the fact the window was dusty and completely opaque, she could tell it stood empty and abandoned inside. To the right of the window, a small door had a sign nailed to it. Written in a bold, curving script, the sign read: Closed for renovation.

Ginny drew her was and tapped the door. 'Kedavra,' she said, not bothering to hush her voice; there was no need to in this area. With the password said, the door swung open before her; it wasn't nearly as dramatic as when, perhaps say a wall or statue opened into a room. Ginny entered.

Just as the door had opened magically, it closed behind her magically as well. It very nearly caught Ginny's cloak as it done so. 'Damn door,' she cursed, angrily. 

For the first time, Ginny took a moment to take in the surroundings. She was standing at the end of a long corridor that was pretty much empty. The walls had been half stripped of wallpaper, which of course meant that half of the fading pattern paper still hung, or half-hung from the walls; most of it peeling on it's own accord. The floor was bare of carpet, or even under carpet, allowing Ginny to see the old wooden floorboards that ran perpendicular to her. Either side of her, several doors ran all the way to the end of the hall, some of them newly replaced, others rotting and decaying. It was, in short, a half renovated building, as one would expect from the sign.

With no apprehension whatsoever, Ginny made her way down the carpet-less hall; the sounds of her steps echoed loudly through the house. At the end of the hall, one of the older doors still stood. It hung off it's hinges and looked as though even the slightest touch would send it crumbling to the ground. The door that lead to one of the main rooms was half ajar; a sliver of red light cast into the hall.

'Ginny is that you?' a voice exclaimed from the other side of the door; the sounding echoing through the expanses of the house... shop, whatever it was.

Ginny pushed the door open, the rusty old hinges creaking in protest as she done so. Whoever had spoke was hidden well from view. The room looked almost empty, bleak and void of life. The only piece furniture that stood in the room was an old armchair that had been pushed from the other side of the room to stand in front of the fire which raged in the other corner; clean streaks in the dust ridden floor bared witness to where the chair had been pushed from. 

Ginny dropped to her knees and in answer to the earlier question answered, 'Yes, my Lord, it is I.'

'Is it done,' a weak voice whispered from behind the chair.

'It is my Lord; I would not fail you.'

A long silence followed, the sound of the raging fire filling the air; Ginny was sure her master was grinning widely to himself. 'As always, Ginny, you are my most faithful servant!'

****

The Alternate end... I am *so* evil!


End file.
